The next morning came early for Taffeta. She dug in the cardboard box for her robe, quickly ran a brush through her hair, and walked to the kitchen, where she found Barney standing at the sink and wearing only sweatpants. Bare from the waist up, he was putting on a pot of coffee, and his tawny hair stood up in tufts atop his head.
“Oops,” he said. “You caught me. I wanted to get the java on for you before I showered.”
Taffeta’s tongue felt as if it had stuck to the roof of her mouth. She’d thought that the burnished tone of his face had come from exposure to sunlight, but his upper body was the same color, reminding her of melted caramel. She’d known he was muscular. Even when he was fully clothed, she had seen evidence of that in his shoulders and arms. But the picture that had formed in her mind of his bare torso didn’t compare to the reality.
He flipped on the coffee machine and turned to catch her staring. Taffeta couldn’t look away. His broad chest sported a furring of golden hair that tapered to his waist like an arrow, drawing her gaze to his well-defined abdominal muscles. He was, without a doubt, the most sculptured specimen of manhood that she’d ever seen.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice sounding oddly thick. “I, um—I’ll go shower and get dressed.”
Taffeta didn’t allow herself to watch him leave the room. She’d come in for a drink of water. After this, she’d keep a glass in the bath that adjoined her room so she wouldn’t catch him by surprise again. Seeing him half-dressed had left her feeling breathless and a little dizzy. Not good. She had gaped at him. Gaped. She wasn’t a teenage girl, so why on earth had she behaved like one?
• • •
Barney stepped into the shower, letting the stream of warm water pour over him. He leaned his forehead against the tiled wall, squeezed his eyes closed, and cursed. No sex. Why had he ever suggested such a stupid arrangement? She was hot for him. He’d seen it in her eyes. And, dammit, he was equally attracted to her. How in the hell could they live together without acting upon that desire?
Barney had no idea. He remembered hoping that she would never parade around in front of him half-dressed. And then what had he done but do it himself the very first morning? Great move, Sterling.
After exiting the shower, he dried off and put on his uniform. Taffeta hadn’t driven her car out here last night, so he’d have to take her to the shop. He saw no point in wearing civilian clothes into town and then coming all the way back home to dress for work.
He found Taffeta at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee. She had skimmed her wet hair back into a knot again. She wore not a trace of makeup. And, to top it off, she had thrown on a drab green blouse that was at least two sizes too large for her. He had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything.
“I’m more comfortable dressed this way,” she said, as if he’d criticized her choice of attire out loud.
Barney almost told her that the plain Jane look wouldn’t work when he took her out on the town that evening, but he decided to address that problem when he got to it. Instead he poured himself a cup of coffee. As he took his first sip, he gazed out the window over the sink at his horses. Sunlight pooled on their backs. It promised to be a nice day, not summertime warm, for sure, but pleasant. He wondered if Anne would be in a foul mood because she’d be trapped inside until six and miss most of the springlike weather.
He glanced at his watch and turned from the sink. “If I’m going to get you to the shop by eight, we’d better get cracking.”
She pushed up from the chair and moved past him to rinse out her cup. She smelled faintly of roses, and he wanted to lean in closer to get a stronger whiff.
“Thanks for making the coffee,” she said as she put her mug in the dishwasher. “I had time to drink more than you did.”
He almost said that she cleaned up faster than any female he’d ever known, but he swallowed back the comment. It wouldn’t have been intended as a compliment, and he didn’t want to start the day by taking shots at her.
• • •
Taffeta expected Barney to just drop her off at the store, but he parked out front and walked down the street to the Jake ’n’ Bake. When he returned minutes later with flavored coffees and pastry, she couldn’t help laughing.
“I’ll grow as big as a barn if I do this with you every morning,” she said.
“Nah. With the weather turning, we’ll exercise any extra pounds off you. Riding horses will be a good workout. And if you don’t like to jog, there are plenty of places to walk at my place.”
He came behind the counter with her. “How do I set up your till?” he asked.
Taffeta opened the safe and got out the money bag she’d prepared on Friday at closing. She showed him where the bill denominations went and then how to sort the change. “You’ll be working your own shift today, Barney. You needn’t stay here to help me.”
“We’re newlyweds. I think a man who’s head over heels in love with his wife would stay with her as long as possible. Besides, I like learning new things. As a teenager and then later in college, I worked for my dad, no money tills involved. I’ve only seen you work with customers a few times, but I noticed that you count back the change. With digital registers that tell you how much money to hand back, that has become a lost art. Can you teach me how?”
“It’s very easy,” she said. “Let’s say someone buys something for three dollars and sixty-six cents, and he hands you a ten. You count in your head from three sixty-six up to four dollars as you take out the change, and then you count from there up to ten with bills.” She watched as he lifted the money from the till, and then she held out her hand. “Now, starting at three sixty-six, count it back to me.”
It made her feel good to be showing Barney how to do something. Unlike her, he had finished his education at the university, and he had acquired a wealth of job experience as well. She doubted that there were many things he didn’t know how to do.
“Ten,” he said as he placed a five on her palm. Then he grinned, looking proud of himself. “I did it!”
“And very well,” she assured him.
With Barney helping, Taffeta was ready for customers in no time. They took up their usual positions at the counter to enjoy the coffee and baked goods. She frowned when the sunlight outside blinked out.
“Oh no. I think our pretty day just went on vacation,” she said.
He turned to look out at the street. “Damn, it’s trying to snow. That’s Mystic Creek weather for you.”
“I didn’t move here in time to experience a whole spring last year.”
“Welcome to my world. Do you have studded tires on your car?”
“No. I seldom needed traction tires in Erickson.”
“Well, if the road conditions get nasty, wait here for me to pick you up.” He glanced at the street again. “I don’t want you to go off in a ditch between here and my place.”
Taffeta agreed to do that.
“Where’s your car parked?” he asked.
“Out back.” She gestured with her thumb toward the back room. “There’s a little carport out there.”
The snow began to come down heavier. Being in the warm shop with Barney felt cozy, and she wished, not for the first time, that he didn’t have to leave. They chatted for a while about a mystery novel that he’d been reading. Before she knew it, the wall clock read five minutes until ten, and he had to go. He leaned in close, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “A brand-new husband should get a good-bye kiss from his wife.”
“There’s nobody watching,” she pointed out.
“To be convincing when someone is watching, we both need the practice,” he retorted. “And someone across the way could be spying on us. Come on. Lay one on me.”
Taffeta wasn’t sure this was a good idea. She tipped her head one way, started to press her mouth to his, and then backed off. He smiled, cupped a palm over the back of her neck, and drew her in, taking control. His mouth, still sweet from the coffee, covered hers. He touched the tip of his tongue to her lips, asking her to open them. Her heart caught. Her senses reeled. And then he was tasting the inside of her mouth.
When he lifted his head, Taffeta blinked. He lightly tweaked the end of her nose. “Not bad for a real first kiss, not bad at all.”
Feeling dazed, she could only stare after him silently as he left her shop. He seemed unaffected by the kiss, but she had found it incredible.
• • •
The snow backed off and melted by late afternoon, allowing Taffeta to drive back to Barney’s in her own car, a tiny, older-model Honda that she’d bought secondhand after the divorce. It was fifteen minutes after six when she pulled up in Barney’s graveled driveway. She cut the engine and stared at the dark windows of the house. It was still light out, but knowing that the doors of the home had been left unlocked sort of spooked her. Maybe Barney could kick some ass if he surprised an intruder, but Taffeta needed a skillet as an equalizer.
It felt silly to sit in her car, though. He’d think she was a big chicken. She decided to walk out back and visit his horses. He’d probably get home at any minute, and that way he wouldn’t know that she was nervous about entering the house.
As she expected, she’d barely told the horses hello when she heard his truck pull up out front. She retraced her steps to meet him in front of the veranda. He studied her with the sharp gaze that always made her feel as if he missed nothing. A tawny eyebrow arched over one of his gold-flecked hazel eyes.
“Taffy, you aren’t nervous about going inside alone, are you?”
She almost denied it, but she tried never to lie. “It’s unlocked,” she reminded him. “Someone could be in there, and there’d be no evidence of a break-in to warn me.”
He sighed and led the way up the steps. “All right. For as long as you’re living with me, I’ll lock up when we leave. I don’t want you to feel nervous if you get home before I do.”
“You think I’m being silly.”
He flashed her a grin. “Not at all. My mom insists on locking their house. When Amanda’s ex-husband was threatening her and Chloe’s safety, they even put in a security system.”
“But you never lock your doors.”
He opened the front portal and stood back to let her go in first. When she hesitated, he chuckled and said, “I’ll be right behind you. And I’ll lock them from now on—just for you.”
They had no sooner gained the living room than Barney said, “Go slick up, Taffy. I’d like to take you out for dinner.”
Taffeta had known all day that their campaign to convince the people of Mystic Creek that they were madly in love had to continue. She hurried along the hall to her room, wishing now that she had unpacked all her clothing last night. She’d have to dig for something suitable to put on.
“If there’s a burglar back here, come if you hear me scream!” she yelled.
After entering her room, she piled most of her clothing on her bed and then stood back to stare at the mess. She’d worn loose, drab garments and drawn her hair back into an unattractive twist for so long that it had become second nature. Dressing to look good didn’t come easily to her now.
Barney tapped on her closed door. “You need help deciding what to wear?”
Taffeta called, “You can come in. I’m still decent.”
Barney poked his head into the room, saw the heap of clothing, and said, “Uh-oh. No wonder you’re having trouble. What a mess.”
“I was tired last night and didn’t unpack.”
He drew up beside the bed and homed in on a sassy black dress that she hadn’t worn in ages. “This will work. Where are those heels you wore that night at the restaurant?”
“In the unopened suitcase. I used it mostly for shoes.”
“Perfect.” He started from the room and paused in the doorway to look at her. “I hope you’ll wear your hair down. Aim for sexy and beautiful. Don’t worry about someone recognizing you. Half the town saw you last night, so I don’t think it’s going to happen. But if it does—and it may, sooner or later—we’ll face it together. You’re no longer in hiding. Before long, you’ll be trying to get Sarah back. The moment word of that gets out, gossip will run rampant. I wouldn’t be surprised to see your face plastered on the front page of Erickson’s Sentinel Guard again.”
At the thought, Taffeta’s stomach clenched.
“I’m sorry. I can tell by the look on your face that you hadn’t thought about that.”
“I don’t think I can live through it again,” she said shakily.
“We’ll live through it together,” he promised her.
“People can be vicious to a convicted child abuser.”
“We’ll get through it, and I honestly don’t think anyone in Mystic Creek will act that way.”
“Why? Do you think that people here are somehow more tolerant than those in Erickson?”
Barney grinned. “No. But in Erickson, you weren’t married to a well-respected deputy who’ll shove it back down someone’s throat if a mean word is said to you. And in Erickson, you didn’t have parents-in-law who would jump in to defend you if they heard a slight against you. It’ll be different here. Who in this town would ever believe that I’d hook up with a child abuser?”
Taffeta searched his expression and knew, beyond any doubt, that Barney truly would shove unkind words back down someone’s throat. Though theirs had not been a long acquaintance, she had learned that he was a man of his word.
When she stepped out into the living room a half hour later, Barney rewarded her with an appreciative whistle. “You are a knockout in that dress!”
Heat crept up Taffeta’s neck. They weren’t out in public yet, so surely he wasn’t playacting. Did this mean that he still found her attractive? She recalled the electricity that had snapped between them when he was visiting her shop and flirting with her—and then again last night. Then she gave herself a silent scold. That was then, and this is now. If she allowed herself to believe any of this was real, she would regret it.
She bent her head to smooth the silky material. “The dress looks better now, but at first it was pretty wrinkled.”
“Well, you’re perfect now from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.”
Taffeta took in his outfit. He wore jeans and a western shirt about the same color as her eyes. He had accessorized with a black western jacket, a bolo tie, and gleaming black boots. “You’re not half-bad, either,” she said.
“Sweetheart, together we’re gonna knock the ball clear out of the park.”
When they left the house, Barney surprised her by stopping to lock the front door. “I already got the back one from inside. I ran the dead bolt home after I fed my horses.”
“Thank you, Barney.” Phillip would have snarled and told her to get over it. “It’s sweet of you to change your habits for me.”
“I think that’s what married people are supposed to do. At least my folks talk about it being a fifty-fifty compromise. Actually they say they always try to give in sixty percent of the time. If they both do that, it ends up being a relationship that always accommodates both parties.”
Taffeta could only imagine being in a marriage like that.
She’d draped a black wool shawl over her scantily clad shoulders, but it wasn’t thick enough to completely protect her from the chill evening air. The sun wouldn’t officially set until about a quarter to eight, but Mystic Creek rested in a mountain-encircled bowl, and the warmth of the sunlight had already vanished behind the peaks. Barney got a firm grip on her arm in case she lost her balance in her high-heeled shoes as she crossed the uneven ground to his truck.
“I’d happily take you out in your car,” he said, “but I tried to drive one of those roller skates once, and no way could I fit. My head poked into the ceiling, and I had a crick in my neck for days.”
“I’m happy to go in your pickup. I didn’t think I would, but I like big, rumbly vehicles.”
Taffeta had reason to regret those words a moment later. Climbing into the Dodge proved to be difficult. Her skirt was too tight to lift her foot to the running board.
From behind her, Barney laughed. “Brace yourself, gorgeous. This calls for a cowboy lift.” Taking her off guard, he scooped her up into his arms and gently deposited her on the seat. Then he leaned in to fasten her seat belt, lightly grazing the tips of her breasts with the side of his hand as he pulled the nylon strap over her chest. Taffeta’s breath snagged in her throat.
As if he hadn’t noticed, he said, “You like big and rumbly, do you? Someday I’ll take you for a ride in my John Deere tractor, just like in the song.”
Taffeta had heard that song. She’d also heard one about a cowboy who took a woman into the woods for a walk and then told her he needed to check her for ticks. If given her druthers, she’d take the second scenario.
• • •
Dusk blanketed Mystic Creek by the time Barney turned onto the lane that encircled the town center. Taffeta had often walked on the cobbled pedestrian path, but never just before dark, with upper-story apartment windows glowing gold and streetlights starting to come on, their globes haloed in the frozen, sparkly air. It reminded her of a Christmas card scene, with quaint, old-fashioned buildings looming.
He took her to dine at the fanciest restaurant in town, Peck’s Red Rooster. The dining area was large and attractively appointed with rustic barn-plank walls and tables draped with white linen and sporting contrasting barn red napkins folded to resemble roosters. Half partitions separated some of the eating areas for those seeking solitude while they ate, but the nooks didn’t infringe upon the large windows at the opposite end of the room, which offered a spectacular view of Mystic Creek and the natural bridge.
Chris Peck must have spotted them as they entered, because he emerged from the kitchen off to the right to greet them. “So the newlyweds have come to receive their wedding present,” he said with a pleased grin. “I’m delighted to see both of you.”
Barney looked startled and then chagrined. “Oh, man, I totally forgot about that, Chris. I only want to wine and dine my bride—on my own dime.”
Chris shook his head. “Wine and dine her, then, but Kim and I will be very disappointed if you don’t accept this evening as our gift to you.”
As he led them to a table for two near the windows, Taffeta glimpsed a display of children’s drawings. “Are those from the elementary school?” she asked.
Chris smiled. “No. On Saturdays I host an art hour for any local kids who like to draw. I’m supposed to pick out the best drawing and give that child a free ice cream.” He winked at Taffeta. “I can never choose the best artwork, though, so they’re all judged to be the winner, and everyone gets free ice cream. It’s a hoot.”
“That’s so kind of you.”
“Aw, well, possibly. On the other hand, maybe I’m just trying to lure parents in to eat.”
He drew out Taffeta’s chair. When both she and Barney were seated, he said, “I hope you enjoy your meal and will humor us by not worrying about the tab.”
Taffeta watched Barney’s warring expressions and knew the precise moment when he realized it would be rude to refuse. With a chuckle, he said, “Okay, you win, but we’ll bear in mind that someone else is paying for our orders.”
Chris left briefly and returned with a pitcher to fill their crystal water goblets. Then he disappeared again, only to reappear with an uncorked bottle of wine in one hand and two wide-mouth wineglasses in the other. A crisp white linen towel was draped over his right arm. “I’ve been saving this for just the right occasion, and this is the night,” he said, holding up the bottle. “It’s a Blue-Gold award winner, bottled in 2006, a great pinot noir that I’m sure has grown better with age.”
Taffeta sent Barney a look that she hoped didn’t convey her dismay to their host. An award-winning wine? What was Chris thinking? He was treating them like royalty.
“You do imbibe, don’t you?” Chris asked her.
“Oh yes. Yes! It’s just that—well, it’s beyond generous, Mr. Peck, and I feel guilty about accepting.”
Chris shrugged. “We don’t stand on ceremony. Please call me Chris and don’t for a moment feel guilty. Everyone in town has been hoping that Barney would meet the right lady, and this is a joyous occasion to celebrate. As for this being a red, it’s only a starter to set the mood. If you choose chicken, fish, or seafood, I have some fine white wines in mind for you.”
He set a goblet by each of their place settings, then expertly poured both Taffeta and Barney a small amount for taste testing. Barney swirled the glass to study the wine’s legs. Then he sniffed its bouquet and drew in a small amount to roll it over his tongue. With a nod, he said to Chris, “It’s fabulous, Chris. Thank you so much.”
Taffeta nodded in agreement. “It’s delicious. I detect a hint of oak, and the tannins are in perfect balance.”
With a wink, Barney smiled broadly at the restaurateur. “Just don’t let me leave here intoxicated. I’d have to give myself my first DUI.”
Chris barked with laughter and put a generous measure of wine in each of their glasses. “We have a chauffeur who happily drives intoxicated diners home and then brings them back the next morning to get their vehicles. Her name is Kim. So enjoy. I’ll bring your menus in just a moment.” He glanced at the bottle after he set it on the table. “I read the reviews, but it’s been a while. As I recall, it has a hint of clove and is sweet with plum.”
Taffeta took another sip of wine. “It’s awesome, Chris. I definitely taste a hint of clove. Very vibrant with a savory scent and fruity on the tongue.”
As Chris walked away, Barney leaned closer to the candlelight that flickered between them. “What I know about wine fits in a thimble. I’ve read enough about tasting to pretend I know what I’m doing, but I honestly don’t. Do you really detect clove?”
Taffeta leaned closer as well. “I attended the wine-tasting school of hard knocks,” she whispered. “When you hang around with the upper class for three years, you learn to fake it.”
Barney burst out laughing, and then he tasted his wine again. “It’s really good. Better than the mediocre stuff I normally buy. I look for bottles that are eight bucks or less.”
It was Taffeta’s turn to chuckle. “I hear you. Only my budget dictates six dollars or less. The last I saw on the Net, now I have to brand-shop my cheap wines because several have been fingered for containing arsenic.”
They slipped easily into a conversation about wine and the professionals who graded them, Barney stating that he didn’t know how people trained their taste buds to detect the many flavors that could be present in different fermentations.
“I can pick up on some things,” Taffeta said. “But mostly I wing it. To say you detect a hint of oak is usually a safe bet because most good wines are aged in oak barrels. And the tannins are normally present because they’re used to clarify wine. Tannins can be bitter and overwhelming in some wines. If you aren’t overwhelmed by any bitter taste, you can say that the tannins are perfectly balanced.”
“I should hang out with you more often. I may not know my wine, but with those tips, I can at least pretend I do.” He took another sip of the pinot. “I don’t detect a noticeable bitter taste in this.”
“Which is why I mentioned the perfect balance,” Taffeta said. “It isn’t that I wanted to impress Chris. I only wanted him to believe we have the trained palates necessary to appreciate his gift. I’ve been served much older award-winning wines, which probably cost a small fortune, but this is a nice, upper-scale wine, possibly around fifty dollars per bottle originally and now worth more because it has aged.”
Barney’s eyebrows arched. “Shit. He should have just bought us a toaster.”
For some reason, his comment struck both of them as being hilariously funny, and they laughed until they almost cried. Taffeta was the first to collect herself, not because she no longer found it amusing, but because tears would smear her makeup. She wanted to look as good as she could for this man.
Barney sobered and lifted his glass. Gazing deeply into her eyes, he gently tapped his goblet against hers. “To us,” he said. “And to our success. Maybe one day soon, we’ll have your little girl here to go out to eat with us.”
Taffeta’s heart clutched. Was he real, this man? He cared—he truly cared—about a child that he’d never met. Sarah’s father had never once shown as much concern for her as Barney was. And how could Taffeta resist him, knowing that? He was the perfect blend of rugged masculinity and compassion.
With the flicker of amber flame dancing over his chiseled features, he was, without question, one of the handsomest men Taffeta had ever met. The sharp planes and strong angles of his features would, she felt sure, tempt any artist to capture his face on canvas. And, she realized with dismay, she would probably empty her meager savings account to possess the painting. He fascinated her so that she could have studied his countenance for hours without growing bored.
He gazed back at her as if he found her to be equally attractive. An act? Taffeta didn’t know, but the intimate setting and the charming ambience of the restaurant—elegant, yet welcoming—lured her into relaxed enjoyment of the moment, which was so seductive that she couldn’t determine what was real or what wasn’t—and she didn’t really care.