11
Gabe pulled the thick tarpaulins off the stagecoach and coughed from the dust. He hadn’t seen the contraption before except in a few photos Tess sent him when he was on his second tour. In one picture, Rusty stood beside his treasured find, his boot on the step. In another, he perched on the driver’s seat, a broad grin spread across his face. With his beat-up Stetson, the one Gabe now wore, and the reins in his hand, Rusty could have been an extra in a John Wayne movie.
He’d have loved that.
Gabe had passed the photos around to the others in his unit along with the brownies and cookies Tess sent in her care packages. He sighed heavily as he rolled the tarp into a loose pile. After 9/11, he’d intended to spend his life as a Marine, and given the chance, he’d go on another tour. But that chance would never come.
His hand glided across the coach’s finish until a splinter scraped his finger. The slivered wood cut into his flesh, and a drop of blood wet his skin. A brilliant red smear against his tanned complexion. Nowhere near as cute as Amy’s paint-speckled face.
He wiped his finger on his jeans and climbed up to the driver’s seat. The brittle leather creaked beneath his weight.
No matter what he was doing, how much he tried to control his thoughts, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. For the umpteenth time, he relived the moment she’d touched his jaw, her lovely blue eyes focused only on him.
The conversation played as he bowed his head and clasped his hands between his knees. Her voice was still as intoxicating as the day he fell in love with her.
“What’s your word?”
“Prison.”
“Not you.”
He raised his head and stared unseeing at a spider-webbed corner of the barn, saw again the shock in her eyes that she tried to hide, heard her quiet response.
Not you.
Words a stranger wouldn’t say. Which meant she’d slipped up. He gulped hay-scented, musty air.
His suspicion was right. She remembered him. She knew him. But for reasons he couldn’t fathom, she didn’t want him to know.
He could live with that.
“Gabe,” Tess called as she entered the barn. “Are you in here?”
“Yeah.” He climbed from the seat. “Checking out the stagecoach.”
“How bad is it?”
“It’s seen better days.”
She frowned as she surveyed the coach. “Rusty always meant to restore it. Just another one of the many things he never got around to.”
The unspoken words hung between them: Because he died too soon.
Gabe pulled her into a sideways hug. “Tell me why we’re doing this again?”
“It seemed like a good idea when I suggested it,” Tess said. “Though now I’m not so sure.”
“How long has it been in storage?”
“Almost as long as we’ve had it.”
Gabe ran his hand over one of the metal wheels. “It needs more work than we can get done in less than a couple of weeks.”
“I guess we’ll have to stick with the tried-and-true hay wagon instead.” She looked over the stagecoach again. “It’d still be fun to have this at Misty Willow for the celebration.”
“I can try to drive it over. Could be fun.”
“It could be a disaster. Have you ever driven something like this?”
“Not by myself.” On the occasions when Rusty had hitched a horse to a wagon, he’d sat beside Gabe, ready to lend a steadying hand if needed. “But I’m not a kid anymore. I think I can handle it.”
“Do us both a favor and practice around here before you go out on the road. You can hitch up Abner and Casper. They make a good team.”
Gabe nodded agreement. The two American Saddlebreds shouldn’t have any trouble pulling the coach. As long as the wheels didn’t fall off.
“I appreciate your volunteering to help at the celebration,” Tess said.
“I think you’re the one who did the volunteering.”
Tess flashed him a guilty grin. “You could have said no.”
“And disappoint my favorite aunt? Never.”
“I hope you won’t find it too boring.”
“I’d rather take people to the creek and back than stand around and try to make small talk with them.” He also wanted to have something to do in case Amy spent the day ignoring him. She never had responded to his invitation to ride shotgun.
Amy tapped her newly manicured nails on the table, then checked the time on her phone. Again. She’d give Logan five more minutes, no more, then she was leaving. She had better things to do than wait around for him to show up. Like painting her kitchen. Or shopping for furniture to fill up the space where the pool table had stood. Perhaps a round oak table like the one Gran used to have there.
Another minute passed, and the bell over the door dinged. Logan breezed in, spied Amy, then smiled broadly as he maneuvered his way to her table.
“Four minutes to spare,” she said as he pulled out the chair across from her.
“You had me on a countdown?” he asked in disbelief. “I got lost.”
“Don’t you have a GPS?”
“What can I say? It led me astray.”
Amused by his unintentional rhyme, Amy let her irritation fade. She’d forgotten how personable Logan could be. And how attractive with his dark hair and blue eyes.
“At least I’m here now.” He folded his arms on the table, his warm smile melting the last of her put-upon attitude. “You’re looking lovely.”
“Flattery doesn’t impress me,” she said with a flirting lilt in her voice. “You should know that.”
“It’s not flattery when it’s the truth.” He gestured toward her to-go cup. “What are you drinking?”
“Iced mocha.”
“I’ll have the same.”
Before Amy could stop him, he popped out of the chair and placed his order at the counter. She breathed out a puff of exasperated air, then grabbed her bag and joined him.
“Why did you want to meet me, Logan?”
He inserted his credit card into the reader and faced her. “Maybe I’ve missed you. Wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Try again.”
“You did quite the disappearing act. One day you’re saying no to even the most lucrative clients in favor of your own select list; the next you’re gone and your clients are left scrambling.”
Amy stood quietly, her focus intent but revealing nothing. What could she say? At the back of her mind was the knowledge that everything about this meeting—what she was wearing, what she drank, what she said—could be tomorrow’s white-hot topic. Not that Logan was known for gossiping. But it only took him telling one person who told one or two more, the details getting garbled in the retelling. Who could blame her for being guarded?
“Not that I minded when a couple of those clients put me on retainer.” Logan returned his card to his wallet and took his drink from the barista with a smile. “It’s a nice day. Why don’t we walk around this charming town?”
In other words, he didn’t want anyone eavesdropping on their conversation.
“I’d like that,” Amy said. “Though I’m not sure how much charm you’re going to find here.”
His smile deepened. “I already have,” he said meaningfully.
“Flattery again.”
He leaned close as he steered her toward the door. “Truth.”
Once outside, they wandered toward the town square. A monument to the community’s World Wars I and II veterans, shaded by a pair of red maples, dominated the middle of the small park. Wrought-iron benches lined the pathways radiating from the center to the outer sidewalks.
Logan gestured at the nearest bench. Amy sat and crossed her legs toward him. Subtle, purposeful body language born from habit. And a need for casual masculine attention. Besides, she couldn’t resist a little harmless flirting with an old friend.
Logan didn’t disappoint. “Whoever you’ve got wrapped around your little finger these days is one lucky man. Anyone I know?”
Only a Stetson-wearing ex-con with a slow smile that pulled at her heart. Not that she had Gabe wrapped around her finger. Far from it. He was too much his own man to be any woman’s plaything.
“There’s no one,” she said.
Logan raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Why are you so surprised?”
“You always have a man in your life. Believe me, I’ve tried to catch you in between them.”
“Au contraire, mon chéri,” she said, playfully tapping him on the knee. “I recall a couple of times when I was free and you were not.”
“I always got free as fast as I could.” He rested his arm across the back of the bench and stroked her shoulder. “Never was fast enough.”
“Who are you seeing now? Anyone I know?”
His eyes softened with meaning. “Only you.”
“Really? That’s the best line you’ve got?”
He drew her closer. “Admit it, Amy. Even when we were with other people, there was always an attraction between us. Isn’t that why we were each other’s standby dates to all those government functions we’ve been to? I don’t think I need a line to catch your attention.”
She studied his face, wanting to see behind the words. He was right about their mutual attraction, and they definitely made a fine-looking couple. Whenever she had an event her significant other couldn’t attend, she called on Logan. And he did the same. Their evenings always ended with nothing more than a chaste goodnight kiss. It almost seemed like they took turns, by silent agreement, resisting temptation.
Maybe that’s why she hadn’t expected this come-on.
Gabe signed the signature card and slid it across the desk with a contented smile. Opening a checking account might be a small thing to most people, but for him it was a huge step on the road back to normalcy. The only blight was that the money for the deposit had come from his dad. Though it pained his pride to accept the check, and he’d been tempted to return it in little pieces, truth was, he needed it.
The bank officer, a cheerful woman with an attractive smile, organized the paperwork into a folder while he tucked his new debit card in his wallet. At least now he could buy the parts he needed to get the Ford up and running again. Also a new sander and varnish for the stagecoach. A few buckets of white paint for the fence.
But first, his errand for Aunt Tess.
“Could you tell me how to get to the library?” he asked.
“Go up to the corner and straight across the town square.” She slipped her business card into a slot inside the folder. “Are you an avid reader?”
“I suppose I am.” He’d certainly read plenty the past six years. “But I’m picking up a couple of books being held for my aunt.”
“Who’s your favorite author?”
“That’s hard to say. I read a lot of history. Biographies, military nonfiction. What about you?”
“I go in spurts. If I find an author I love, I read everything they’ve written and then go on to someone else.” She handed him the folder with another cheery smile. “If there’s anything else we can help you with, please let us know.” The smile deepened. “Let me know.”
Gabe grinned. He’d forgotten what a boost a little flirtation could be to his ego. “I’ll do that,” he said.
He left the bank and drew the sun-warmed air into his lungs. The freedom of walking around town, any direction he wanted, wherever he wanted, called to him like a siren. He left Tess’s truck parked on the street and headed for the library.
At the corner, he paused to check for traffic, then crossed the street into the square. Along one of the paths, a young couple sat on a bench. The man had his arm around the woman’s shoulder as they gazed into each other’s eyes. They seemed oblivious to the world around them, but Gabe recognized Amy’s model-perfect profile, her silky blonde hair, and her long gorgeous legs.
Feeling as if he’d been sucker-punched, he jaywalked to the opposite sidewalk. Of course, she was seeing someone. He was a fool to think she didn’t already have a man in her life. He stepped behind a parked SUV and looked toward the square. At this distance, it was even harder to make out the details, but one thing was certain. Whoever the man was, he and Amy were more than just friends.