Chapter Two
Emily snubbed the lock on the front door of her store and turned and leaned against it. The rest of the day followed in that slightly off balance way. Like she was walking with one heel shorter than the other. Each step not what it should be. The feeling that had plagued her since her trip back east had only intensified with the arrival of Cowboy Adam. She’d returned to her painting only to find herself satisfied with what she’d put down. And even worse, no longer frustrated at her lack of drawing memories of a face not on this earth.
What she had found unsatisfactory was the comparison of a skein of yarn to Cowboy Adam’s eyes. The lingering idea that he was the first person in Fly Creek to push through her robotic ways and look inside her. If it had just been that, she could have ignored it, tightened her turtle-like shell she put on for the world and continued on. But coupled with that familiarity was the lust. The lust that if asked, she would have said she hadn’t missed, but apparently her body had just been waiting for the right wake-up call.
The lust was what had her trying to sell knitting needles to the tourist who wanted charcoals. It was what filtered through her mind while handing over five skeins of that exact blue yarn when she’d been asked for a rust color. The same thing that had her hand hovering over the phone to call Sofie and ask for her help.
Pushing away from the door, she walked steadily if uneasily around the shop completing her normal shut-down routine. An early night was probably what was best all around. Except when she crested the steps into her loft, her lust-addled brain suggested: Or maybe you could go to the Wooden Nickel and take care of that itch.
She waved the ridiculous notion away. Scratching an itch was stupid. Completely against her life the past three years. A life that she existed rather than participated in. Scratching was stupid. He was one cowboy who happened to look good and who more importantly had happened to look. So what?
And yet when she opened a drawer to grab some pajama pants, her hand came out with a pair of jeans.
“Nope. Not going to happen.”
She replaced the jeans and found the pajama pants. She slid into bed, turned off the lights, and went through her deep breathing and stretches. Everything would right itself. Her memories would return. Her grief-fueled life was exactly as she wanted it to be.
But when Emily finally closed her eyes, the smile that appeared belonged to a blue-eyed cowboy who had chosen to really look at her.
…
On the one hand, having Shelby take Adam up on the offer to deliver Emily’s payment was another boon to his otherwise stagnant plan. On the other was guilt stemming from his excitement to see her again. He needed to focus on the guilt. Drew had loved her despite the circumstances leading to their relationship. His cousin had asked him for one thing—make sure she moved on. Nowhere did that imply acting on an attraction.
Her store sat smack dab in the middle of Miller Street, the main road through town. Huge picture windows let in sunlight and gave whoever chose to look a view of not only her offerings but also the brick walls that showcased artwork. He guessed hers, but then again maybe she allowed others to display as well.
Pulling into a spot a block away, he grabbed the envelope off the dash and jumped out. He’d tried to come up with a plan, but nothing seemed appropriate. Asking her to do anything smacked of a date. Baby steps for a woman locked in grief seemed right, but what constituted baby steps when time was ticking?
Maybe the best he could hope for today was another smile.
“Mr. Conley?”
He managed not to swear as he spun around to greet Polly Brooks and her granddaughter, Peyton.
“Ladies.” He tipped his hat and grinned. He knew dimples were about the only thing that might get him out of this encounter without adding to the Fly Creek rumor mill. Except, one glance at Peyton’s narrowed gaze and pursed lips, and he realized he’d played the wrong hand with the Ice Queen.
“It’s rare to see one of you hands walking the street in the middle of the week. Is it your day off?”
“No, ma’am. Just running an errand for Shelby.”
“Really?” Peyton asked. “She knew I was coming to town.”
Adam ignored the now calculating gleam in Peyton’s green gaze.
“Just what errand has you on Miller Street?” Polly asked, moving closer and peering down at the envelope crushed in his hand.
“Dropping off payment to Miss White. Picked up the painting yesterday and forgot it. My mistake, my fix.” He smiled again. “Now if you lovely ladies will excuse me, I need to drop this off and get back to my rides this afternoon.”
Nodding at both, he didn’t wait for a response and hurried toward the Painted Glass’s door. He didn’t move fast enough to miss hearing Polly say, “That’s just odd all around, don’t you think?”
Great, now he had three women all zeroed in on him and his actions. His actions before he left in September were going to cause enough trouble. In fact, his job in regards to Emily might have just gotten that much more complicated.
He pushed open the door, the cowbell once again alerting his arrival, only this time, Emily stood in front of the register, the sun pouring through the windows and bathing one half of her in filtered light. He shouldn’t notice. Shouldn’t see the beauty encased in a fragile shell. Shouldn’t pay attention to the outline of her figure hinted at through sheer cotton.
She glanced up and all the color left her face. “What are you doing here?”
The panic was evident, although he had no idea what his presence had to do with it. Baby steps seemed too high a bar to aim for. Perhaps just a drop and run.
He held up the envelope, taking small steps in her direction. “Shelby asked me to drop your check off. I should have brought it yesterday when I picked up the painting.”
Her lips formed an “oh” but no sound came out.
Adam laid it down at the same time as she reached for it, and her fingers brushed the top of his hand. He closed his eyes, refusing to meet her gaze. Refusing to acknowledge the tremor in her fingers or her sucked in breath. He’d felt that brush to the tip of his boots, leaving awareness in its wake. Awareness that needed to be shut down because she was a promise, a goal, a means to an end. She was a checkmark to getting out of Fly Creek.
He stepped back and ran his hands down his jeans. “You have a nice day, ma’am.”
“Wait.”
He glanced up. Huge mistake. She’d come from around the counter, and her pale face was now flushed with pink. Her eyes, the ones he’d looked into yesterday and seen the grief and something more, a wanting, searched his face. Today that wanting was more powerful than the cloud. Today her hazel eyes looked brighter and full of curiosity.
“How did the delivery go?”
“Good. Shelby’s pleased and happy to see it hanging in the lobby.” He ran a hand down his neck. “It’s a pretty spectacular piece.”
Her face lit up. Yesterday had been mere sparklers. This morning was the grand finale at a Fourth of July event. It was a glimmer of the woman he bet Drew had fallen in love with. It was what he needed her to be all the time. Engaged with her world and happy. All by September.
“I’m glad she’s happy.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’ll send some business my way. Did you make sure to use the wire in the back to hang it?”
Adam nodded. “Shelby mentioned something about art classes. You should take her up on it.”
The smile dissolved. The spark extinguished. He’d forgotten about baby steps and taken a leap off the cliff.
She picked at the hem of her shirt. “The shop keeps me really busy.”
“I’m sure it does.” And then because he figured he’d already jumped, “Have you taught classes before?”
She shook her head and then nodded. He waited to see what might be the right answer but she continued to pick at her shirt.
“Well, maybe classes are something to consider for the future?”
“Maybe,” she said, but Adam knew it was for show. This woman wasn’t focusing on a future. This woman was existing. Smiles might be a step, but he had a long way to travel before his promise was fulfilled.
She headed back around the counter, the shut-down Emily once again in charge. “Thanks for bringing it by.”
“No problem. See ya around.”
The door closed behind him, and Adam forced hot summer air into his lungs. He didn’t know whether to count this encounter as a win or a bonafide mess and which scared him more.