The man completely unnerved her, and she didn’t know why. Okay, forget the fact that they had a history, and it wasn’t a good one. That alone would be enough for anyone to be on edge whenever Brody Whitebear was around. No one would blame Tara for never talking to the man again.
As she rearranged items in the store to make it look like the shelves were still stocked, she thought of what she’d seen in him when he’d opened her gift at the ranch. When Tara had dropped the bowl off at the ranch the other day, she foolishly thought it would be the last time she’d see him except in passing. They lived in the same town. He was sure to occasionally go to the hardware store or the diner across the street. The bank was just up the road, for cripes sake. She could hardly ignore him.
She turned quickly and spotted him outside her newly reinstalled picture window. She hadn’t had time to schedule the Murhall Sign Company to come out and redo the lettering with the shop name and logo on the window yet, which gave her a clear view of Brody standing outside inspecting the pieces she’d put on the display on the sidewalk.
Since the break in, she’d considered not putting her wares out on the sidewalk anymore. But Dixie’s idea had been a good one. They’d had a few days with stellar sales and she couldn’t attribute it to anything other than Dixie’s marketing idea working. In fact, it would be great to have a few more days like that this month to make up for the things that weren’t covered under insurance, like her high deductible.
She kept her eye on Brody as he picked up the items on the outside shelf and then carefully placed them down. What was he doing here? Was he really interested in the dinnerware she had on display? He lifted his head as if just now getting a whiff of the cinnamon and huckleberry rolls Norma had baked special for the shop. The whole store was filled with the sweet aroma, teasing both her and Dixie all morning.
She turned toward the bakery counter and was just about to ask her to take care of Brody if he came inside, but then stopped short.
“Are you okay, Dixie?”
Dixie turned around quickly and covered her mouth. “I’m not feeling so good.”
Tara quickly waved her hands toward the back room. “Go. Rest in my office if you need to.”
Dixie quickly ran into the stockroom and then she heard the bathroom door slam shut. Tara had noticed Dixie seemed a bit off her game that morning. She’d chalked it up to nerves over the new summer classes Dixie had signed up for that she knew were causing Dixie stress. But now she wasn’t sure.
The doorbell chimed indicating someone was coming into the shop and she knew she was stuck. She’d have to wait on Brody. She pasted on her usual business smile and turned to him as he slowly made his way through the shop.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Hi.”
“Did you come in here to catch a bite to eat? You must have smelled those cinnamon huckleberry rolls Norma baked just for us.”
He glanced at the bakery case. “Is that what I’m smelling?”
“Yes. Did you want one or three?”
His smile was quick. “You’re good at sales.”
“I like to think so.”
Brody’s eyebrows pull together in a frown, making him far more handsome than she thought possible. She shouldn’t be thinking he was a handsome man. There was too much history between them. And he was getting under her skin. She hated every second of it. And yet, she couldn’t turn away.
“I’m not hungry. Mercy, the ranch’s cook, usually makes breakfast and lunch for the ranch hands. So I had my fill.” He tapped on his stomach and continued to look around the shop.
“Ah, my competition.”
“Yeah.” Brody turned back to her. “I was hoping I could talk to you about something you said to me the other day.”
“What did I say?”
“You said you knew bunkhouses looked void of color.”
“But you said you don’t live in the bunkhouse.”
“The ranch manager’s house is just more of the same. I didn’t realize how much until I put that bright bowl on the table.”
She smiled. “You like the bowl.”
“No. I love it. I read Shana’s proverb again. Then I really looked at the bowl. Lots of rivers. Lots of beginnings.”
“Like life.”
“Yeah. She’s quite an artist. Without saying much, she tells a story.”
“That’s why I love her work. I wish I could pay her what she’s worth. A lot of people don’t look beyond the item to see the story.”
“No?”
“They’re usually interested in whether or not the colors will go with their expensive décor. Not that I’m complaining. I like to think I’m helping create a beautiful environment every time someone buys a piece from my store.”
He thought for a few seconds and then smiled. Then his eyes softened as he stared at Tara for a few seconds more. “I understand her story.”
“I hoped you would.”
“You got me thinking it?”
“About what?”
He chuckled and then shook his head as if he were embarrassed. “I haven’t had any color in my life in a long time. Prison doesn’t exactly give you spectacular décor.”
“You’ve been out of prison for a long time, Brody.”
He shrugged. “But you were right about bunkhouses and I’ve seen a lot of those since I was released. A life without color is a void.”
Her shoulders sagged. She knew exactly what he meant without him having to explain. When something tragic happened, it was as if time stood still. It had taken Tara a long time to get her shop up and running and move beyond the stigma of being the sister of the drug dealer. But even before that, people didn’t trust her. It was as if they afraid of her for no reason other than what they knew from the trial.
She crossed her arms over her chest, as emotion from the memory seemed to well up inside her unexpectedly. “So, what are you thinking about?”
“I don’t have a whole lot of money, but I don’t need much,” Brody said. “But I have no idea what to get that might liven up the place. So I was thinking maybe I’d find something here.”
“Something to bring color back to your life.”
“That’s right.”
Her insides hummed as he gazed down at her. His eyes were pale blue, something she wasn’t sure she’d noticed before. The fire in them was enough to bring anyone to life.
She cleared her throat and glanced around the store. “Um, do you know what kind of things you’re looking for? That might make it easier.”
He shook his head. “That’s the problem. I live and have lived in sparse quarters for a long time. That house at the Lone Creek might seems modest in size by most people’s standards, but it’s enormous to me. The idea of filling it up with anything personal feels a little daunting. I was hoping you could help me figure things out.”
“Like?”
“Like what to put on bare walls other than a stuffed animal head.”
She chuckled. “Okay. Wall ornaments. How big a space?”
He stretched his arms out wide. “I don’t know. It’s a log wall.”
She turned away trying to shake off the feeling that had come over her. This was Brody Whitebear. The man who’d been fighting with her brother when he’d been killed. She shouldn’t be noticing his eyes or his smile or how strong those outstretched arms were. It was pure insanity to do so.
“Uh, there is a gentleman who has a studio in Billings who does some wall ornaments. I have a piece over here.”
He walked behind her. She was glad to have her back turned because she knew it was rude. But she couldn’t rely that her expression wouldn’t give away her thoughts of this sudden stirring Brody seemed to bring out in her.
For God’s sake, she was at work. In her shop that she’d worked years to build to a success. She’d never been this flustered with a handsome man before.
Brody groaned, making her turn around. He rubbed his bearded chin with his fingers and scrutinized the piece she’d pointed out. “More animals.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No. But there’s no color.”
“Right.”
He sighed. “Honestly, you could show me every piece in this shop and I still wouldn’t know if it was a good fit like that bowl was. If I bought something, I wouldn’t have a clue where to put it.”
“I see. It’s a problem a lot of people have when decorating a space.”
He glanced around. “Did you decorate everything in the shop yourself?”
Tara looked around with pride. “I did.”
“Then maybe you could come out to my place and help me. Right now, it’s sort of a blank slate.”
She was moved by his faith in her. Part of her heard the warning bells clanging in her head that this wasn’t a good idea. They’d come to a truce. An understanding of sorts. But that didn’t mean it should be anything else. It wasn’t a date. He wasn’t professing anything to her other than asking her for help.
Somehow the idea of being in close quarters with Brody seemed a little too personal.
“I’m just looking for pointers,” he said as if sensing her hesitation. “I could ask Tabby to stop by and help me. But it’s a little hard for her because she knew Levon so well.”
“I understand.”
“I know they don’t mean to, but the ranch hands sometimes give me a funny look when I head over to the house. They still call it Levon’s house. I’m sure they will for a while. So I feel funny asking Tabby to help when I’m sure she’s probably feeling the same thing.”
“Isn’t Tabby in New York with Kas?”
“Most of the time. But she’s been coming back to make preparations for the wedding.”
“Oh, that’s right. I’d heard they’d gotten engaged. Trip must be sad to see her leave.”
“She won’t be far after the wedding. Her and Kas are building a house up on Lookout Ridge.”
Tara’s interested piqued. “Is that so?”
Brody smiled. “You might be able to get some business decorating her place if you can manage to help an old cowboy like me.”
She took in his long, lean form that seemed to be perfection for any woman wanting to run their hands over his body. It surprised Tara that the thought had even come to her mind. But it had. Many times over the last few weeks.
“There’s nothing old about you, Brody.”
He smiled and held her gaze for a moment, almost hypnotizing her. Then he pulled away and wandered around the store some more.
“I can sense you’re a little hesitant,” Brody said. “It’s okay. My house is small in comparison to Trip’s place. It’s just huge by my standards. From the looks of it, it was huge for Levon, too, because he basically lived in two rooms.”
“What about, what did you say the cook’s name was? Mercy? I don’t know the woman but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind helping you out. Women tend to be naturals at setting up house.”
“That’s a pretty sexist statement.”
“You’re right. But you’ve already admitted that neither or you or any of the ranch hands have any taste in decorating.”
He laughed. “True. But you said you wanted to make it up to me,” Brody said.
“I thought I already had.”
His eyebrows stretched up on his forehead. “You think giving me a bowl is compensation enough for nearly putting me in jail?”
“It’s a gesture,” she said, shifting uncomfortably as she had when she’d started her apology tour, which given Brody’s request, was likely going to continue unless she put on the brakes.
“I want you, Tara.”
Her eyes flew open wide. “I beg your pardon?”