The Cowboy Takes A Bride

by Jillian Hart

  "Maybe I would like a hot cup of coffee. I'd be mighty obliged." He gave a one-shouldered shrug, pretending to himself that he had no reason to be embarrassed. Any awkwardness was behind him now, so he could be suave and impress her. The more he spoke to her, the more the wanted that. It surprised him, even ignoring the hard, tight, icy ball of foreboding settling in the bottom of his stomach. Best not to listen to that feeling, he thought. "I would appreciate getting out of this snow to thaw out."

  "Then come in and we'll send you home with some bread, too. I baked far too much and look, we're done with business for the day. Maybe the whole week. Maybe it will be that tough two weeks in April all over again."

  "I'm glad I could save your rental agreement for you." He hobbled into the store and shut the door behind him. Two of the women regarded him with great delighted curiosity, as if breathless to see what would happen next.

  But Jada seemed unaffected, not rushing up to tend to him at all, but guided by the two women who would not let him go. She called over her shoulder. "Take a chair there, Frisco, near the stove."

  "I'm dropping snowflakes all over your floor. It's the muddy bootprints and pony prints all over again."

  "What happened with the pony?" Jada whipped around the corner, her skirts rustling pleasantly, her shoe heels tapping a gentle cadence, looking as sweet and calm as a still, windless late spring day.

  He wrapped his fingers around the top rung of a ladder back chair and gave it a tug. He couldn't feel half his body, including his feet, so it was a good idea to warm up, to take this moment and make sure he didn't get hypothermia or frostbite on his way home. This would save him chilblains later.

  He folded his big frame into the chair, glad for the comfortable cushion and cringed, wondering how much snow was tumbling onto the clean floor. Oh, he would never get the mess the boys had made out of his mind. That only made him think that the way his eyes kept zipping over to her, every single time, meant that he was not wrong. Not wrong at all to be here.

  "Right now I'm betting Chester is in his stall in the horse barn, the one closest to our home, enjoying attention from the boys who either are overfeeding him, over petting him or making him pull a toboggan. I hope it's not the toboggan. I told them no before I left to check on my parents and then with the sheriff. Who knows what happens when I leave them home?" He thanked Stella for the hot cup of very sweet coffee she set on the table in front of him. Oh, it warmed the cold right out of his hands.

  "Aren't you worried those boys of yours are knocking down buildings? Frightening normal people off the road with that outrageous pony? Maybe they're speeding down North Hill causing havoc every step of the way."

  "Or slide of the way," He corrected. "I hate to see what those boys will do if they hitch a toboggan to a pony."

  "Especially that pony. He looked like trouble. I mean, he cost a whole twenty-five cents."

  "And even then, the boys got cheated. It's a crime. I'd report it if the boys and the pony weren't so happy," he quipped with a wink.

  "It's good to know it's working out so well. I would be, if I were Chester." Jada looked up from behind the counter, soft wisps falling down to frame her delicate face. She made him chuckle, almost spilling the coffee that warmed him right up.

  "Oh, don't think I didn't guess that you would keep Chester." She placed a well-wrapped bread loaf on the table next to him. "That pony has got it made."

  "I can't deny it, and I'm rather fond of him. It reminds me of the little mustang I first had when I was just a little younger than my boys." He took another sip, glad for the cup to stare into so he didn't fall into the magnetic pull of her eyes and give away how much he liked her. "How much do I owe you for the bread?"

  "This is free and an attempt to compensate you for the cookies I meant to give away to your boys and to you but you left me money for them. So, I'm getting you back. Consider it vengeance."

  "With vengeance like yours, who needs enemies? You're a tough talking woman."

  "Don't I know it. You're right. Which is why I'm always at a complete and utter loss when it comes to the tougher aspects of running a business. My sisters are worse."

  "And that is why the Pratt family runs roughshod over you, at least that's my guess." He took another soothing but steaming hot sip and watched her over the mug's brim. She slipped the plate onto the dainty little table next to his coffee cup.

  "How did you know?"

  "Just a wild guess. If you run into any more trouble with your landlord, you just let me know."

  "That's a problem, because now I'll be indebted to you and I'll have to toss out my poor opinion of you entirely and admit I rather don't dislike you too much at all."

  "That's progress. I'm glad for that. Next thing you know, you'll even grow to like me very much."

  "Miracles happen every day, but I doubt that will be one of them. Then again, maybe it's more possible than I think." She blushed slightly, dipping her chin and he wanted to laugh at her dear, adorable beauty, and judging by the quirking up in the corners of her kissable, bow-shaped mouth, she was pleased that he was interested.

  Good. He drained the cup, savoring that last sweet mouthful before he swallowed and pushed back his chair. His blood heated as his gaze remained on her petal-pink mouth, and he wanted to claim her lips with his and know the feel and texture and softness of her kiss.

  She looked like everything graceful and good that he'd ever dreamed of, and didn't know how to keep that hot, sweet, sexual desiring hidden, or the space deep within his heart that was too tender, for having been broken so hard when Janice left him. Jada didn't have that in her, to leave a man, to let him down. Deep at heart, she was as sweet and soft and as easy as vanilla pudding.

  He knew the look of someone trying to keep that soft, vulnerable place within hidden, and he knew something about that. He liked to keep that spot in him buried behind iron and locked up so tight, he'd thrown away the key.

  He pulled out the dollar bill. "That bread smells good."

  "Most folks get their bread at the mercantile. Or the ingredients. They bake their own, and the price is better."

  "But it doesn't smell as good as this." He remembered the cookie of hers he'd sampled at home had been tasty. Sweet, soft, flavorful, and he knew her bread would be good. The woman could bake.

  He dropped the dollar bill on the table, grabbed the wrapped loaf and pushed to his feet. He towered over her, she was just a little sprite of a thing, smiling up at him, so beautiful his heart did a double beat.

  "You don't have to pay, Frisco." So soft that voice, he had to lean in a bit closer, wanting to hear the dulcet tone, to be just a little closer to her instead of mostly a stranger to her. "I invited you in. You look warmer now."

  "I am, and I appreciate it." He took a hesitant step toward the door. "Maybe now I won't stumble into any poles on the way home."

  "Or hitching posts or handrails."

  "I can only hope I'm that lucky." Laughter felt good, and he liked hearing the bell of her good humor warming his heart. "That ruby looks good on you."

  "Thank you. I haven't had the chance to thank you enough. It's the nicest piece of jewelry I've ever had."

  "I'm glad." He hesitated, hand on the door handle, heartbeat racing up a storm. Before he could say what he was gearing up to, the brass knob moved beneath his hand, the door attempted to push open, jarring the bell overhead. Well, he hadn't meant to block the doorway. Curious, he hauled open the door to see a white-flocked, snow-clad man towering on the boardwalk, teeth chattering.

  "Tristan." Frisco stepped back to make room for the cold, half-frozen looking traveler. "What are you doing out in this storm? Most folks have the good sense to get home before it gets worse. Although I'm not one of them."

  "Me, either. I'm just lucky this place is open." Snow tumbled to the floor as the man held the door and they exchanged places, trading the warmth of the shop for the frigid cold of the boardwalk.

  Frisco shivered, teeth already chatter
ing. "Make sure you get home without freezing solid and, Jada, thank you. I'll see you around."

  His smile was the last thing he could give her before he shut the door, to keep the warmth of her shop in and so she would not get a bad chill. One step was all it took and the hurling white of the blowing snow wrapped around him like a veil, stealing all sight of her bathed in the golden liquid of the lamplight, and he was alone in the storm.

  * * *

  Jada took one look at the expressions on her younger sisters' faces and realized they could guess quite plainly that she was a little bit sweet on the cowboy. Well, that's not good, she thought, missing Frisco already.

  But the the man draped in white and likely wrapped in fine quality wool beneath the caked-on snow said he had some good news for them. And that was one reason why he'd dropped by on his way home because he was in no hurry to have to deal with the Pratt side of his family, he'd said with good humor.

  Tristan Haywood seemed amiable enough, so Jada gripped the hot pad tight, gave the coffee pot a tip and filled a mug to the rim. Steam wafted up, delicious and hot, and she set cup and sugar bowl on the other closest table from the door where he'd hunkered down in a chair to thaw out and shed ice and snow all over their floor, thereby breaking their rental agreement all over again. Her chin went up, eyeing the look of him. It was fortunate to have such a man visiting in town. He looked sensible, friendly and understanding.

  Her ear tuned in to the conversation he was having with Stella, as her gaze strayed to the white-streaked window, where Frisco was no longer visible. Not much was, except for the dark white-gray veils of the on coming blizzard. Boy, did that man sure stay on her mind. Someone bumped her elbow.

  It was Mindy. "I want a good close-up look at that pin. It's a real ruby, isn't it?"

  "I think so. Real pearls, too."

  "And diamonds," Mindy breathed.

  Ordinarily, real gemstones were out of their price range and their experience, Jada thought, but not Tristan Haywood's. No, the man sitting towering next to Stella and talking warmly with her, tugged off his knit hat and unwound his muffler while snow fell everywhere. He looked and was rumored to be no stranger to wealth, finery and hard work.

  But judging by their conversation and the way he held Stella's gaze with interest, she'd be smart to get the dustpan and the broom so Stella wouldn't get up to do it and she and Tristan could continue to talk.

  "What are you doing here, Mr. Haywood?" When the conversation hit a small lull, Jada wrapped her hand around the smooth new handle of the broom leaning against the wall. She let her good humor warm her voice, suddenly very glad he was here and smiling at Stella. "Frisco is right. You shouldn't be out in the storm. You need to be safe at home. Even a city dweller like you should know that."

  "I just made it into town coming back from Dillon on business, I didn't want to take the stage, but that was before the white-out set in and I was halfway to town already." He wrapped his large hands around the mug and gave a sigh of gratitude as he breathed in that warm, coffee-scented steam. "Man, that feels good. I'm nothing but an ice cube."

  "Then don't melt all over this floor," Stella advised warmly. "That would be a shame."

  "And likely the Pratt side of my family will have to give you another warning and evict you for uncleanliness," he quipped, although his tone turned serious. "I hope you don't despise me for that."

  8

  "No, not even if I'm afraid to relax and not worry where we will be living and attempting to work next." She ignored the two handfuls of hard-packed snow that tumbled off the arm of his coat when he reached for the sugar bowl. She set the dustpan on the floor. "We had an accident caused by a would-be customer in our establishment and Heather took great umbrage and simply served us with a notice. Frisco had it revoked for us, which was sure nice of him."

  "Very nice, and I'm glad he did that for you, Jada, and I'm sorry about all this snow. I'll leave extra money to compensate you." The shy, bookish New Yorker pulled off his snow-bound wool cap and more chunks of snow went tumbling down to splat to a stop on the floor. The corners of his sculpted mouth quirked. "Heather is tough but what she really hates is vacancies, because she loves money. Something to remember if this happens again. If I'm town, I can help, too. Or I can give my card to Stella for safekeeping and you can write me and I'll do all I can to right the situation."

  "Well, that would be more than wonderful." She gave the broom a hard swoosh in response, feeling her heart cinch right up with hope for Stella.

  "I can only apologize for my family members. I am sorry about that," he smiled shyly at Stella while batting snowflakes out of his hair. "But what kind of customer would make a problem here? You should ban them. That's what I'd do if I were you."

  "You know about the pony," Stella laughed warmly while Jada attacked the softening snow on the floor with her mop. "If we banned them, then we would miss out on the entertainment. The boys bought him for a quarter and got swindled. It's a crime that will never be prosecuted."

  "Lucky pony." He obliged and took a big, thankful sip. "A pony, huh? I once had a sweet Quarter Horse who could open any lock, any door, anything he came across. He let himself out of his stall, out of the barn, into the feed room, into the bank, oh, that was a mess, someone had spanked him to move him over to make room at the hitching post, he bit them, untied himself and came in to find me. He had a cut on his neck and he showed it to me right in front of the assistant manager. It did not go over well."

  "I can't believe that."

  "I had to get a new bank. I bet Heather didn't take the pony as a customer here with good humor. I hear she was horrified."

  "It was also the muddy tracks everywhere." Jada scooted the last of the snow chunks into the dustpan. "Would you like another refill of coffee?"

  "What kind of question is that?" He smiled back. "I noticed the diner is closed, like every other business along the street, on my way through town. Your light drew me in."

  "What do you mean?" Stella rose gracefully to her feet, ready to grab the coffee pot.

  "There is no place to eat in town and I don't want to walk that far out of my way to the hotel and back, since I stabled my horse at the livery first off because he was so chilled. Do you have any food here?"

  "Like for supper?" Stella bobbed closer to refill his cup. Her chin went up, her eyes sparkling with good humor. "Of course we can pack up some food for you to take home. I'd never live down the fact that I didn't render aid to you. I bet Heather Pratt would boot us out for sure."

  "True, but not if I'm in town overseeing things." His smile turned brighter. "I'm just glad you're still open for business, or I would be in a state of hurt."

  Stella's voice murmured and answer, falling into the background as Jada stowed the broom and carried the dustpan full of melting snow to the front door. One toss left her shivering, feeling iced clear to the bone as she shut the door and, teeth chattering, headed into the kitchen.

  Did Frisco have far to go, she wondered, listening to the beat of the wind hit the north side of the kitchen like a fright train. Brr, it looked frigid out there. Would he get home safe? The storm had turned dangerous, and look at her, all tied up in knots over a man who looked capable of moving mountains. Sure, he knew how to take care of himself in a blizzard. But it was a sign of her caring that she worried about. Her fingertips brushed the pin on her collar and her heart cinched harder.

  Stop thinking of the man so fondly, she told herself, getting back to work. It took no trouble at all to pack some of their been and beef soup from supper into a crock for Tristan to heat when he'd walked the two blocks to his apartment. She added thick slices of honey-cured ham, unable to explain why her thoughts kept spiraling back to Frisco.

  The image of him so handsome, with his good-natured air and bold, dark hair tousled and tumbling over his forehead and brushing his collar, a little too long for propriety's sake. One thing she could not do was to be taken in by his twin-dimples that creased into his cheeks when
he grinned and made him extra handsome. She would be wise not to be swayed by the man's good looks whatsoever.

  She squared her shoulders, determined to be strong.

  Finished with packing a few meals, she swished away from the counter, through the kitchen and through the swinging door. Stella stood at the counter, boxing up a selection of ham and cheese muffins, a small chocolate cake and dinner rolls. Jada set the wrapped bundle she carried on the display counter. "Send this home with him, Stella, okay?"

  "Okay," she smiled, all business, not quite aware of the man's interest in her. Oh, perhaps, she was afraid to let herself hope, too.

  I know just how you're feeling, Jada thought, letting her gaze stray to the window packed with snow, the outside impossible to see, proof you never knew what the future held. It was best to be practical and sensible, to keep one's heart safe and hopes on the ground.

  "I appreciate this." Tristan's voice broke into her thoughts. The sound of quarters and the whisper of a dollar bill hitting the counter spoke of his generosity, the total far above any reasonable asking price. "You ladies have saved me. I would be in a world of hunger without you."

  "Not true, and you owe us nothing." Stella's chin went higher, as if determined to resist his charm but failed at it.

  Jada knew how that felt, too. As Tristan said his goodbyes and headed for the door, her thoughts turned to Frisco. She missed the way his buttery baritone wrapped around her like summer warmth. The man was attractive and sexy enough to give her a serious case of tingles.

  Remembering him, a sweet, charged shiver of attraction zipped through her. Not that she should be feeling such a way, she told herself, focusing deliberately on the wave of cold air coursing through the closing door, the chatter as Mindy turned the sign to closed in the window, and Stella's sigh of admiration over the man, now that he was gone.

  "I like him." Mindy broke the silence. "He has an honest look to him, and he's friends with Frisco. That might make us glad he's come to town."