Seeing Emma hesitate in the kitchen, Max suspected she had forgotten all about meeting him. “You don’t do much for a guy’s confidence, Emmie,” he said with a shake of his head.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a busy day, and as you can see, I haven’t even had time to change out of my uniform. Perhaps another time?”
“Perhaps. Or we could just sit in a couple of those rocking chairs out front and take in the night air. Guaranteed to help you sleep better.” He saw her glance toward the stairway. “Half hour,” he bargained before pulling out his ace. “I want to tell you what Pearl said when she saw your handiwork.”
“Very well. Half an hour.” She stepped into the yard and headed around the side of the hotel, taking a seat in a rocking chair and smoothing her skirt. “Well?”
Max played dumb. He took his time removing his hat, setting it on the small table between his chair and hers. “Well, what?”
“What did Pearl say?”
It was dark, but he would have been willing to bet her question came through gritted teeth.
“She loved it,” he said. “In fact, I’ve never heard her go on about anything the way she was carrying on about the work you did. She must have shown it to pretty much every woman in the company. They were all chattering about such small, even stitches and something about the way you used color and such. Meant nothing to me. I just thought it looked fine.”
“She liked it then,” Emma murmured, and she sounded pleased, a little excited even.
“She told me to tell you if you ever decide to give up working for the Harveys, you might want to think about heading east and opening a shop. Something about how those high society ladies would beat a path to your door.”
“I’m just glad I could be of help.” She set the rocking chair in motion.
Max wished he could see her more clearly. He leaned back in his chair. After a moment passed without either of them saying anything, he cleared his throat. “Do you ever think about that, Emmie? I mean doing something other than working for the Harvey outfit?”
“Do you?” she countered. “That is, do you think about something other than traveling across the country putting on shows?”
“Asked you first,” he said with a chuckle.
She took her time answering him. “Nothing is forever.” Her voice was soft, even a little wistful.
“So dream a little, Emmie. If you could do anything at all, what would it be?” He assumed the answer would be the usual—settle down, marry, raise a family.
“I joined the Harvey Company because I wanted to travel,” she admitted. She laughed, but there was an edge of bitterness to it. “That hasn’t exactly worked out.”
“Where would you go if you traveled?”
“I saw an article once with photographs of something the article called ‘a national park.’ I really didn’t know anything like that existed, and the photographs were so…unusual. Geysers and mud pots and steaming rocks.” She stilled the rocking chair and sat forward, her hands gripping the chair arms. “Did you ever see that part of the country, Max?”
“I have. It’s like nothing you can imagine, Emmie. It’s all so grand and wild.” Instinctively, Max covered her hand with his. “I hope one day you get to go there.” He felt her relax slightly, her hand soft beneath his. He decided not to let go.
She let out a breath. “I’ve never shared that dream with anyone else, Max, not even my dearest friends. I imagine they would be quite surprised at this side of me. They see me as someone who is content with the life I have, and I guess I liked the way they relied on me, the way the girls now rely on me. Does that make any sense at all?”
“It does, at least to me. I think we have that in common—that sense of responsibility for others, putting that ahead of what we might need ourselves. For me, it’s also the show and the way people think they know me when they don’t.”
They started the chairs rocking again, their hands still touching. He laced his fingers with hers, and she did not pull away. A couple of businessmen came up the walk and entered the hotel. From down the street came the faint plinking of the piano in one of the saloons. Otherwise, all was quiet except for the rhythmic squeak of their rocking chairs.
“Emmie?”
“Hmm?” Her voice was sleepy and relaxed.
“If it means anything, I think you could probably do pretty much anything you set your mind to.”
She was so quiet, he thought maybe she had dozed off. But then she giggled. “I couldn’t star in a Wild West show,” she said.
He smiled and tightened his hold on her hand. “Would you want to?”
“Not really, but it does all seem like a grand adventure.” She stifled a yawn. “Excuse me. I assure you it’s not your company.”
“Shall we call it a night?” he asked but made no move to rise and hoped maybe she would stay as well.
She slid her hand free of his and pushed herself to her feet. “I have an early start tomorrow,” she said. “Thank you, Max. I’m so glad Pearl was pleased with my work. Let her know I’m happy to help with special projects or even alterations if she’s in need and I have the time.”
Max felt disappointed that she had focused on Pearl and the sewing project rather than the personal conversation they had shared. Give it time. He stood and faced her. “I’ll be sure to pass along your offer to Pearl. In the meantime, do you think we might do this again?”
“This?”
“Spend time together.”
She looked down at the floor. “Max, please don’t feel you need to—”
“To what? Spend time with you? Try to get to know you?” He moved a step closer and hooked his forefinger under her chin. “Look at me, Emmie. The more I learn about you, the more I like you. I like talking to you. Truth is I was looking forward to tonight all day long. It made me smile just thinking about it. You make me smile.” He trailed his thumb over her lower lip. “And if you don’t walk away right now, I’m liable to think pretty seriously about kissing you good night.”
She lifted her eyes to meet his. Something in the way she lingered told him she was coming to a decision, one she did not take lightly. “Still here,” she finally murmured.
Max lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her gently, knowing it would not do to give in to his baser instincts to take her fully in his arms and deepen the kiss. “Good night, Emmie,” he said before kissing her a second time, unable to resist one more taste of her soft, full lips. He was surprised by his restraint, surprised to realize that whatever he was feeling for Emma Elliott, it was a lifetime away from the purely carnal need he’d acted on with other women. With two light kisses, he felt something that had always been missing in his life. He felt a kind of contentment, as if maybe the world was going in the right direction after all.
He stepped away to allow her to pass.
“Good night,” she said softly and crossed the veranda to the front entrance of the hotel.
“See you tomorrow?” he called after her as he leaned against a post and watched her go.
She paused before walking on. “That depends. Are you planning on taking any meals with us?”
“You know what I’m asking. After. Can I see you after?”
She did not turn to face him, and her voice was so soft, he almost missed her reply.
“Seems to me there was some suggestion of ice cream, so yes.”
Max shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the livery where he’d left Diablo. He couldn’t seem to stop grinning like a schoolboy.
* * *
On her way to her room, Emma felt a lightness she hadn’t known in months. The weight of her responsibilities often left her feeling tired and out of sorts by the end of the day, but not tonight. She touched her fingers to her lips. He’d kissed her, not once but twice. She wanted to tell someone. She wished Grace and Lily were waiting for her at the top of the stairs, anxious to hear all about her evening with the handsome showman.
But it had been three years since the days when she, Grace, and Lily were Harvey Girls together. They had each found adventure of their own and followed it. The reminder of passing time brought Emma’s high spirits back to earth. She sighed and climbed the stairs, doing a quick check of the rooms along the hall to tally which girls were still out. It was not a perfect plan, but when she’d told the girls she would make this nightly visit and anyone who was still out would need to knock at her door when they returned to be marked off the list, they’d groaned but so far had followed the plan. Of course, Emma was not so naïve that she didn’t understand a girl—like Trula, for example—might check in at the stroke of curfew and slip out again later, but for the most part, the system worked.
On this night, every girl was accounted for, most of them already in their nightgowns. She bid them good night and returned to her room at the top of the stairs. When she opened the door, she saw a small envelope on the floor and recognized Grace’s blue stationery. She slid her thumbnail under the sealed flap and removed the contents.
Planning to be in town tomorrow. Let’s meet for tea and catch up. It’s been ages. Meet you at Miss Lorna’s Tearoom after the three o’clock pulls out.
Grace
Emma smiled. Despite the fact that it had been years since Grace had worked as a Harvey Girl, she still gauged time by the coming and going of the trains. Emma clutched the message to her chest and laughed. It was almost as if Grace had known. How many times had it been just that way for the three friends? She wished Lily lived closer and they could all be together, but she would not be greedy. A shared cup of tea with Grace was exactly what she’d been hoping for.
Outside her door, a floorboard squeaked. Emma glanced at her watch. Quarter past curfew. She opened her bedroom door and stepped into the hall. Melba was on her way down the stairs, fully dressed. Emma cleared her throat and waited.
Chin lowered to her chest, Melba retraced her steps, squeezed past Emma, and headed down the hall to the room she shared with Nan.
“Good night, Melba,” Emma called out, not bothering to lower her voice, wanting to sound a warning to all the girls.
“Good night, Miss E,” Melba muttered as she entered her room and shut the door.
And just like that, all the youthful joy Emma had felt following Max’s kisses and finding Grace’s invitation melted away. She may as well face facts—her time for romance and adventure had probably passed. Nothing could possibly come of a liaison with Max. He would move on, and she would stay. Her choice was to enjoy whatever time they might have with the knowledge it was not permanent or cut it off before she suffered the misery that was sure to follow.
She undressed and pulled her nightgown over her head. Tomorrow, she would have tea with Grace. Grace would listen and sympathize with her dilemma and perhaps offer advice.
* * *
Miss Lorna’s Tearoom was a new addition to the growing string of businesses that stretched along two sides of Juniper’s plaza, a sign of the times. More and more people were settling in the area; more and more tourists came from the East to experience the wonders of the mountains and desert, marveling at the strange foliage and rock formations that rose like buildings across the land.
As soon as Emma made sure the dining room and counter were cleared of the effects of serving a steady stream of guests and that the dining room was set for the supper clientele, she left her apron in her office, pinned on her hat, and hurried away. Grace was waiting, having already chosen a table by the lace-curtained windows and ordered a pot of tea and plate of finger foods for them to share.
The two of them hugged and sat across from each other at the small round table. Two other tables in the tearoom were occupied, but Emma focused only on her friend. Grace always looked so young, so fresh. How did she do it? “Where are the children?” Emma asked, spreading her napkin over the black skirt of her uniform.
“I left them home with Nick. Let him answer their endless questions and keep up with their constant need to move from one activity to the next every few minutes.” She laughed. “Besides, when he heard you and I planned to get together, he offered.”
“Have you heard from Lily recently?” Emma was fairly bursting to talk to Grace about Max but understood there was a protocol to be honored.
Grace rolled her eyes. “You know Lily. One day she’ll simply show up, full of excuses and apologies for not being in touch, and you and I will hang on her every word as she regales us with the adventures of her life in Washington.” She poured tea for Emma and herself, then selected two small sandwiches from the tiered plate between them, setting them on a smaller hand-painted plate. “Are you not eating anything?”
Emma realized Grace was waiting for her to choose sandwiches and hurried to do so. They ate and drank in comfortable silence, but then Grace frowned.
“Okay, what’s going on?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Emma lied.
Grace cocked an eyebrow. “Really? Then why do you look as if you have the weight of the world on those shoulders? It’s Aidan, isn’t it? Is he still upset that you broke things off with him? Because it’s been months, and he needs to move on and let you do the—”
“I’ve met someone.”
Grace’s scowl softened into an expression of surprise that spread to delight. She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Really? Tell me everything.”
As they shared the sandwiches and sweets and lingered over cups of tea, Emma told her friend about the day Max first walked into the dining room, the afternoon they’d spent at the showgrounds, and finally the kisses they’d shared just the evening before.
“My stars,” Grace murmured, her eyes cast down as she sipped her tea. “I mean, Emma, don’t you think perhaps… That is, he is a showman after all, an actor and, well, we all know that sort of person can be…” She glanced up and then set her cup down as she took hold of Emma’s hand. “Not that he is that sort of person. He might well be a perfect gentleman. After all, as you said, he served our country and was a decorated hero.”
“You think I’m being a fool,” Emma said softly, half believing it herself. Why on earth would a man like that be interested in her?
“I think you’re being uncharacteristically spontaneous, Emma. Of the three of us, you were always the cautious one. Now you tell me you’ve known this man barely a week and already allowed him to kiss you, not once but twice?”
“I did not allow…” she protested. But she had. Her high spirits at the promise of a visit with her friend plummeted. “They were hardly passionate kisses,” she grumbled. In fact, now that she really thought about them, they had been little more than chaste pecks, albeit on her lips rather than her cheek or forehead. “I’m sure they meant nothing to him.”
“But they meant a good deal to you,” Grace said. “I just don’t want you to be hurt, Em.”
Emma smiled. “I know. Let’s talk of other things. Did I tell you Trula Goodwin is now working for the show’s female star?”
“Really?”
Grace set down her teacup, eager for details and clearly relieved at the change in topic. So Emma told her all about Rebel Reba’s grand arrival at the station that first night, Trula appearing in church wearing one of the actress’s gowns, and the uncomfortable lunch she had served the actress and her assistant. “Wait until Trula learns I did the embroidery on her boss’s costume,” she said with a rueful laugh. “I doubt that’s a piece of clothing she’d look forward to borrowing.”
“You always had such a gift for needlework,” Grace said. “I remember all the nights the three of us talked well into the night, and you’d always have some sewing project in your hands. You made my wedding dress,” she recalled.
“Well, based on Lily’s design,” Emma said, remembering that day vividly. They had all been so young, and none of them had thought that Grace—fresh off the farm and innocent as a newborn—would be the first of them to find her true love.
“Emma?” Grace was watching her closely. “Maybe it’s time you thought of leaving the Harvey Company. Maybe open a little shop of your own if you want to stay here in Juniper, or maybe move on to Santa Fe. You always seemed the perfect candidate to take on the duties of head waitress, but none of us ever thought it would be forever.”
“That’s true. What we thought was that one day—like you and Lily—I would find my true love, and the fairy tale would be complete for the three of us. Sadly, ’twas not to be.”
Grace pursed her lips. “Emma Elliott, stop this right now. You act as if you are past your prime and destined to live out your days alone. That is simply unacceptable. So if you have feelings for this showman, then who am I to dissuade you? I just want you to be careful.” Then she brightened. “I have an idea. Bring him out to the ranch for Sunday dinner next week—no, make it two weeks. Nick must be away on ranch business next week, and I want both of us to have a look at this man. You trust Nick’s opinion, don’t you?”
Emma nodded and smiled. “I trust both of you. It’s a good idea. I’ll ask him tonight.”
Grace lifted her eyebrows. “Tonight? Two nights straight? This man moves fast, Emma. Just watch your step.”
“Enough about me,” Emma said. “Tell me what’s happening with you. Every detail.”
They lingered so long over their tea and Grace’s stories of her wonderful family that Emma had to rush away in order to be at the hotel in time to be sure everything was ready for the arrival of the late afternoon train.
“Even if the captain can’t come that Sunday,” Grace called as Emma hurried up the street, “promise you’ll come spend the afternoon with us.”
“Promise,” Emma replied and blew her friend a kiss before they went their separate ways.
* * *
Max’s desk chair creaked as he leaned back and stretched his arms over his head. The meeting with Bert and the show’s advance man, Ed Brunswick, had gone on longer than usual. Without warning, Ed had reported that the town council refused to issue a parade permit without certain advance assurances. That probably explained why the town’s leaders had been so reserved when Max had met with them earlier in the week.
“They want a cut of ticket sales,” Ed reported.
“We’re barely meeting expenses as it is,” Bert reminded him.
Ed shrugged. “No cut, no permit.”
“I have to go into town tonight,” Max said. “Let me have a word with Frank Tucker. As mayor, maybe he can have some influence.”
“I can handle it, boss,” Ed protested. “I’m on good terms with the mayor. Just tell me what you want me to do.”
Max’s mind clicked to alert. “You know him?”
“Met him at the council meeting. Didn’t have time for more than just a friendly chat, but you know me—I can talk anybody into anything.”
Lately, Max had begun to wonder if Ed was the right man for the job of traveling ahead of the show, making arrangements for permits and such. More often than not, it seemed as if demands from the town fathers had increased. “I’ll handle it this time,” Max said and stood, signaling the end of the meeting. Bert and Ed moved toward the door. Max waited for Ed to start down the short wooden stairway that led from the railway car to the ground and said, “Bert, you got a minute?”
His partner waved Ed on his way and turned to face Max. “You don’t have to say it, Max. We’re thinking the same thing.”
“Ed’s stealing from us?”
Bert nodded and picked up a ledger from his desk. “I didn’t catch it at first, but he’s getting more brazen. Look at these numbers.” He opened the ledger and pointed to a column that showed their costs for printing posters and securing permits and leasing land for setting up the show. The numbers had steadily increased over the last few months.
Max ran his fingers through his hair. “I was checking the books the other night and missed that. I wasn’t comparing current expenses to past months.” This was the part of the job he hated most—having to confront an employee and probably let him go. But the evidence could not be denied and at least required giving Ed the chance to explain himself.
“I’ve saved all the receipts he turned in,” Bert said. “Comparing this last season to the season before, there’s a big difference and not in our favor.”
“I gave him this job,” Max said, more to himself than to Bert. He was recalling the man he’d once served with, then lost track of, then had stumbled across one night when the show was on tour. Ed had been out of work with no prospects and winter coming on. As Bert had done for him, Max had offered Ed a job with the crew that set up and dismantled the show at each stop. He had proven himself a hard worker and popular with the other members of the cast and crew. He’d had a natural gift of gab, and that made Max consider him for the advance man’s position. At first, Ed had handled the job as if he’d been born to do it. Now it looked like all that had changed.
“I’m going to town,” Max said. “I’ll talk to the mayor and get his side of the meeting with the council.”
Bert nodded. “Clock’s ticking, boss. That parade is day after tomorrow. We can’t do it without the permit.”
Max took his hat from the rack by the door. His gun belt hung there as well. There’d been a time when strapping on that belt and shoving a loaded, ebony-handled six-shooter in the holster had been as natural as putting on his hat. But the world was supposedly more civilized these days—no need for men to always be armed. He had tried to remind himself that was progress, but the truth was it only reminded him of how things had changed.
“I’ll see you for breakfast,” he said as he started down the short flight of wooden steps.
“Gonna see that Harvey gal, are you?” Bert teased.
“None of your business,” Max grumbled, but he smiled as he unhitched Diablo’s reins and mounted the steed that seemed as anxious as Max was to be off to some new adventure.
* * *
Max was waiting outside the kitchen entrance as he had been the night before. On this night, he sat alone on the wooden bench in the yard. Emma watched him for a moment from the kitchen window. He looked pensive, and it occurred to her that he might have had a rough day, that he was as exhausted as she was, and that making time to see her could easily have been postponed. He could have sent word that something had detained him at the showgrounds. Of course, he had a room in the hotel, so he would have ended up here anyway.
Oh, she wanted so much to believe he was out there waiting for her because there was nowhere else he’d rather be. But when it came to trusting the male of the species, she had such doubts. Her father’s abandonment had scarred her badly and devastated her mother. It occurred to her that her attraction to the boy who’d run off to fight with Roosevelt had been nothing more than a failed attempt to prove to herself that a man would want her.
And then there had been Aidan. The two of them had started stepping out once Grace and Lily had both married and Emma was promoted to head waitress and housemother, a managerial position on a par with his. Not long after, she had come to realize that it was her promotion, not ardor, that had spurred him to pursue something more personal. He saw them as two lonely souls with great responsibilities and the need for companionship. But Emma wanted more than just companionship. She longed to be courted because she was desirable and interesting and not because she was merely “suitable.” She wanted what she’d seen Grace and Lily find—passion that would not desert her, no matter what.
“You gonna just leave the poor fella sittin’ there, Emma?” She hadn’t realized George was still in the kitchen.
“He’s a guest of the hotel,” she reminded the chef primly. “He can come inside any time he likes.”
“And as a guest, he would come through the lobby. He’s in the kitchen yard, and he’s waitin’ for you. That makes the question what are you waitin’ for?” He arched his bushy eyebrows, then turned away and busied himself checking the dough he’d set to rise for the next morning’s baking.
Emma removed her apron and took a shawl from the hook behind her office door, wrapping it around her shoulders. This time of year, the days were pleasantly warm, but once the sun set, it could get quite chilly. She touched her fingers to her hair and nodded to George who nodded in return as she opened the back door. “Good evening, Max,” she said.
Max stood and snatched off his hat. He smiled as he ran his hand through his thick dark hair. “Evenin’, Emmie. Care to take a walk?”
He did not offer the formality of his crooked arm for her to take but rather stretched his hand out to her, and it seemed only polite to take hold. His hand was warm and swallowed hers in a way that made her feel protected.
“I found this trail back of the hotel here,” he said, leading the way.
“I know the one,” she replied, her voice so unsteady that she hoped he would assume it was the exertion of the climb and not the fact that she was trembling with pleasure. “It goes up to the cemetery, and there’s a lovely view of the town and sunset from up there.”
It was a short climb to the low adobe wall that surrounded the cemetery. “I’ll bet there are some interesting stories in here,” Max said.
“Yes…sad stories.”
“You knew some of these people?”
Emma nodded as she released Max’s hand and bent to brush away debris from the grave of Jake Collier. “Like this one.”
“Who was he?” Max asked.
“A friend—a wonderful, funny, and caring man. He worked in the hotel kitchen and was in love with my dear friend, Lily. He got mixed up with some bad men. They threatened to harm Lily, and Jake tried to stop them…and paid for his courage with his life.”
“And Lily?”
“Jake always understood the feelings didn’t run both ways, but he knew Lily cared for him, and when he died, she was inconsolable. Later, she married Cody Daniels, who became the territorial representative in Washington, so now she lives out there most of the time.”
“Most of the time?”
“She and Cody come back to Santa Fe a couple of times a year. Hopefully, she’ll make one of those visits while you…the show is camped here. She would love seeing a performance.”
“Let me know, and I’ll have tickets waiting. I’d enjoy meeting your friends.”
She continued clearing debris from Jake’s grave while Max walked along, looking at the markers. “Speaking of my friends,” she said, “I had tea this afternoon with another former Harvey Girl who married and stayed in the area. Grace Hopkins. She, Lily, and I arrived here in Juniper together and were roommates. She’s invited you and me for the afternoon Sunday after next if you’d like to go. Her husband, Nick, is a rancher and I think the two of you might have a lot in common.”
Max grinned. “Why, Miss Emma, are you asking me out?”
Emma felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I’m relaying an invitation from my friend,” she said. “If you’re busy, she’ll understand.” She shrugged as if it hardly mattered, even though it mattered a good deal to her.
“Tell your friend I accept with pleasure. But I’m going to need directions, and since you’ve been invited as well, maybe we could go together…I mean, since you know the way.” He held up his hands. “But I understand it’s not a date.”
Emma couldn’t help but laugh. “Stop teasing me.”
“Can’t help it. I like the way my teasing makes your eyes sparkle. Of course, I’m never sure if that’s irritation or just surprise, but it’s nice.”
While Emma reset the bouquet George and his staff had left on Jake’s grave, Max stopped before a massive headstone with the surname PERKINS emblazoned across it in deeply etched capital letters. “This guy must have been important.”
“I suppose he was to some people. He was president of the bank. Unfortunately, he was also obsessed with Grace, and to that end, he almost got her killed in the fire that killed him. After that, Grace was arrested on a charge of murdering him, which was, of course, nonsense.”
“I take it she was found innocent?”
“Not for lack of his wife trying to see her hanged,” Emma grumbled. She gathered the sticks and other debris she’d cleared and carried the pile to the edge of the cemetery where she scattered it on the barren ground. When she turned around, Max was standing close by, watching her.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Emma. Shall we leave this sad place and go watch the last of the sunset?”
Emma brushed the dirt from her hands and pointed. “The best view is from that outcropping of boulders up there,” she said, linking her fingers with his. “Come on or we’ll miss it.”
She was glad to leave the cemetery. Too many memories of times she’d rather forget. Times when she and Grace and Lily—and Jake—had spent their days together working and their time off enjoying hayrides and picnics and such. They had been so very carefree, and it had seemed as if whatever the world had to offer lay ahead of them.
She led the way as they climbed the narrow rocky path until they reached the cluster of boulders, smoothed and polished by centuries of weather. She directed Max’s attention to the spectacular view. “There,” she said, her voice softened by the awe of seeing the red-orange orb suspended above the mountains.
Max climbed onto the largest flat boulder and then pulled her up to stand beside him. When her shawl slipped, he caught it and tenderly arranged it over her shoulders before turning her so that her back was to him and they were both facing the setting sun. “That’s about the prettiest sunset I’ve ever seen,” he said.
And his saying that made Emma realize how silly it was to think a sunset in Juniper might be unique for this man who had traveled the land and must have witnessed countless sunsets and sunrises in his years as a frontier scout and army officer. “You’re kind to say that,” she murmured. “I’m sure you’ve seen others equally as special.”
He stepped closer and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. “Not so, fair lady. I didn’t see those with you.”
Oh, how she wanted to believe him, but caution was her way. Working for the Harveys, she’d had more than her fair share of men making flattering statements. Part of her early training had been in ways to rebuff such advances without upsetting the man, usually a customer. Drawing on her training, she stepped away from Max’s touch, turned, and looked up at him. He reached for her, and she stepped back, her foot slipping on the loose shale rock at the edge of the boulder. She scrambled for traction before falling to her knees. She looked down into the abyss below, her heart hammering just as Max’s hands closed around her upper arms and dragged her back to safety.
Her breath came in short gasps as he held her upright and examined her face closely. “Are you hurt?” he asked, not releasing her.
“I slipped,” she said, trying to smile, but suddenly the reality of how bad the fall might have been hit her. They’d scaled the rock on the side closest to the path but stood watching the sun go down closer to the edge that was a sheer drop into the arroyo far below.
“You’re shaking,” he said and pulled her fully into his arms. As he held her, he moved closer to the safer side of the flat rock.
“I’m…I’ll be…”
“Shh,” he whispered, his breath warm on her forehead. He was cradling the back of her head with one hand while his other hand spanned her back, pressing her to his chest. “Take a moment,” he instructed.
She looked up at him. “Thank you,” she said softly.
Their eyes locked. A question was asked and answered in silence. He cupped her chin and lowered his mouth to hers, and this time, there was nothing guarded about the kiss he gave—or her reaction to it.
Her fingers closed around the lapel of his jacket as she urged him closer. When he stroked her lips with his tongue, she opened to him and thrilled to the deep sigh that elicited from him. He tightened his hold on her, and she in turn pressed herself more fully into the solidness of his chest. She felt the outline of his long legs against the fabric of her skirt.
Then he was kissing her throat and her eyelids and earlobes. His fingers were undoing her hair and combing through the tangles. She heard the hairpins ping against the granite they stood on. Their breaths came in lung-filling gasps before they dove back in for another kiss. His stubble, which would be clean-shaven by morning, scratched her cheeks, marking her with the scent of the sandalwood soap he used.
And all too soon, it was over.
Once again, he cradled her head to his chest. She heard the steady beat of his heart and felt the rise and fall of his rapid breathing. When she opened her eyes, the sun had fully set, and only shadows surrounded them, the mountains outlined against a clear night sky. Once their breathing had steadied, he stepped back enough so he was still holding her but also looking at her. He touched her cheek, and she leaned into that touch, savoring the warmth of his fingers on her skin.
“I have something I need to handle with the show,” he said. “And there’s the parade and opening day after tomorrow. I may not be able to get away for the next few days,” he added.
“It’s all right,” she said, moving away so she could readjust her shawl.
“No, it’s not,” he replied. “It’s not all right, Emmie, because I find I want to see you every day, every night. To not see you for a couple of days?” He shook his head.
She wanted to remind him that each of them had work to do and that he was only here for a matter of weeks. In time, they would have to face facts. He would move on with the show, and she would stay to attend to her duties. But not tonight.
“Aidan has said the girls and I can watch the parade from the hotel balcony,” she said, knowing it was not what he wanted to hear. “We’ll wave and cheer, I promise.” She kept her tone light and playful.
He traced her features with his forefinger. “You’re very beautiful, Emmie,” he said softly. “I don’t think you see that, but I do.”
No one had ever called her beautiful. Appealing, even attractive, yes. But never beautiful. She didn’t know how to respond, so she simply said, “We should get back.” She pulled her shawl tighter.
Max leapt down from the rock and held out his arms to her to help her down. Those long fingers she had admired that first morning spanned her waist and stayed there even after she was safe on the path. “I meant what I said, Emmie.”
She smiled. “And coming from what my girls are sure is the best-looking man they’ve ever seen, I’ll take that as words to treasure.” She started down the path. He walked beside her or a little ahead when the path narrowed, but they were halfway back to the hotel yard before he spoke.
“Why do you do that? Brush aside compliments the way you do?”
They had reached the yard behind the hotel. She let out a long breath and turned to face him. “I have my reasons, Max. Maybe one day I’ll explain, but not tonight. Tonight I want to remember a lovely walk, a shared sunset, and…”
“A kiss?”
She nodded. “Good night, Max.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before hurrying away.
As she let herself into her room, it occurred to her that he still owed her ice cream. She thought of having Tommy deliver a note reminding him of the promise. It would set a more lighthearted tone to an evening that had become far too serious. But as she passed the window on the landing of the back stairs, she realized he was still standing where she’d left him. He was looking up at the back of the hotel. In her room, she lit the lamp and walked to the window. When he saw her, he smiled, swept off his hat, and bowed before walking away, whistling.