Читать книгу Salvation in the Sheriff's Kiss - Kelly Boyce - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Meredith was saying something as the door opened but the words died on her tongue. Not that it mattered. Hunter’s brain had stopped working the moment he laid eyes on her up close. It simply fizzled out and rolled over like a possum playing dead.

She looked different. Poised and sophisticated in her fancy green dress that reminded him of spring leaves newly budded.

Lord. Was he really going to wax poetic about her dress? Focus man!

A feat much easier said than done.

Surprise brightened her eyes, which were far bluer than he remembered, but she schooled her features quickly, and in a blink of her eyes it disappeared until he wondered if he had seen it at all. His own recovery proved slower coming. His tongue remained tangled behind his teeth and all he could do was stand there and stare like a first-rate idiot. She was the one who finally broke the growing silence.

“Can I be of some service to you, Sheriff?”

He didn’t miss the way she stressed the sheriff bit, cutting it off sharply at the end. He’d been newly appointed shortly before her departure. He remembered how it had filled her with hope, as if it would somehow change things, make them better. And he remembered how he’d taken that hope and crushed it. Guilt clawed at his insides.

“I saw you arrive. Figured you’d come to see your pa.”

“Did you?”

It wasn’t much as far as conversations went. She’d yet to fully open the door and the way she had one hand on the doorframe and the other one on the inside doorknob, it didn’t appear she was interested in having an extended chat.

He tried again. “I thought I’d come over and pay my respects.”

One blond eyebrow arched upward. The hat she’d worn earlier with the strange feather thing jutting out was gone, but the wild mane of wheat-blond hair that taunted his memories remained tamed and twisted into submission, save for one curl dangling just in front of her left ear, as if it refused to be constrained by the pins she’d inflicted on the rest of it.

“Your respect?” The frost from her words brushed against him like a bitter wind and pulled his attention away from her hair.

“Yes. That’s right.” He didn’t like the tone in her voice. It set him on edge, as if whatever answer he gave would be the wrong one. Women had a funny way of doing that. He’d never quite figured out how they managed it but—

The frost turned to shards of ice. “Given that I never had your respect in the past, I see no reason for you to pay it now.”

And there it was.

Hunter’s face burned. He wanted to defend himself, but what ammunition did he have? She was right. He hadn’t treated her with respect. He had meant to. His intentions were honorable in that regard, but it hadn’t turned out that way. Instead, he had jilted her in the worst possible way and at the worst possible time. Still, the remark hurt and he shot back without thinking.

“Nice room. Quite a step up for you.”

Anger and pride hardened her features. Stupid. He should have left well enough alone. Heck, he probably shouldn’t have come over here in the first place. A fact he realized too late.

“I don’t see how my accommodations are any of your business.”

Her arms crossed just beneath her chest, pushing the soft mounds upward enough to draw his attention. He quickly looked away, but not quick enough to stop his body’s reaction. She’d always done that to him. He’d been a fool to think seven years would lessen the effect, smother the need. It hadn’t. If anything, it had only intensified. He just didn’t realize it until she opened the door and everything she was, everything she had become, reached across the threshold and slammed into him with the ferocity of a runaway horse.

“Being Sheriff makes a whole host of things my business.”

“Well if I intend to break the law, I’ll be sure and let you know. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She moved to close the door. Without thinking—because, really, why start now?—he stuck his foot out and pressed his weight against it. She looked down at his foot, then met his gaze. A low fire kindled in her eyes, but not the kind he remembered.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Hell and damnation, he was making a total muck of this, but he’d stepped in it now and there didn’t seem to be a graceful way to pull his boots out of it. He’d come here with one intention—to find out how long she planned on staying in town—and the next thing he knew, he was jamming his foot in her door like he had some right.

“Are you planning on staying long?”

“That is none of your concern.” She pushed at the door, but he kept his foot lodged in place receiving a deathly glare for his trouble.

“I’m going to keep my foot here until you tell me.”

“Then I’ll scream until—”

“Until what? Someone sends for the law?” He tapped a finger against the tin badge pinned to his chest and smiled. “At your service, ma’am.”

Somebody ought to shoot him now. Given Meredith looked angry enough to spit, he guessed she’d be the first to volunteer. The thought sent his attention to her mouth. Bad idea. Full lips he’d once kissed with more passion than a body could contain were pulled into a tight line. It did nothing to diminish how badly he wanted to kiss them all over again, taste her sweetness, lose himself in her. Damn it!

“If I tell you why I’m here, will you go away?”

“Likely.” But he didn’t want to. As much of an idiot as he was making of himself just being this close to her again made him feel alive. He hadn’t felt this good since...well, since before she’d left.

“Fine. I have moved back to Salvation Falls for good.”

“For good?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He had a sinking feeling if she stayed put he’d spend the rest of his days reveling in his stupidity every time she came within sight.

“Yes. I plan on opening my own business.”

“And what business might that be?” And when had she become Little Miss Entrepreneur? She had never expressed an interest in running her own business before. Before, she’d wanted to get married, have babies. His babies. And as stupid as it sounded even to his own ears, the idea that she no longer wanted that felt like a betrayal. He really was losing his grasp on his sanity.

“A dress shop.” Her chin lifted and pride shone past the irritation in her eyes. “I design and sew my own creations, as well as patterns I have sourced from Paris. I owned a successful dress shop in Boston and now I plan on doing the same here.”

Hunter tried to marry the idea of the sweet, loving girl he had known with the confident businesswoman who knew her own mind and was willing to give him a piece of it with little provocation. It created a strange dynamic, a potent infusion that made him want her even more for reasons he couldn’t even determine.

“I see.”

“So glad to hear it. Will you remove your foot from my door now please?”

“Is there a problem here?”

Hunter turned, the movement forcing him to remove his foot from where he’d propped it against Meredith’s door. Coming up the hallway was the gentleman who’d arrived in town a little over a week ago. Bannerman...? Baxter...? Bancroft. That was it. Anson Bancroft.

“Mr. Bancroft.” Hunter looked up at him. He had to. Even at six feet, the man had a good half foot on him. A person could get a crick in the neck holding a long conversation with this man. Not that he seemed prone to long conversations. The most Hunter had ever gotten out of him was a nod of the head in passing. Hunter did the same now to the two well-dressed ladies who flanked either side of him. “Mrs. Bancroft. Miss Bancroft.”

“Oh, good evening, Sheriff Donovan. You remember Charlotte, of course.” He didn’t, given that they had never been introduced, but that little detail didn’t seem to derail Mrs. Bancroft. “Say hello to the nice sheriff, Charlotte.”

Charlotte tilted her head and gave him a half smile he recognized as forced. From the look of her, trussed up like a doll with not a hair out of place and an expression of bored superiority resting on her pretty features, Hunter guessed she didn’t often deign to fraternize with someone as lowly as the town sheriff. Although he was certain if she knew he was set to inherit one of the largest ranches in the area she’d sing a different tune.

Given the way Mrs. Bancroft continued her jabbering, she already knew which way the wind blew on that account. “And how are you this evening, Sheriff? Such a lovely evening. We thought we might all take a stroll before supper. Perhaps you would like to join us?”

“Uh, thank you, but no.” He gave his most charming smile to soften the refusal. “I’m afraid I’m on duty tonight, ma’am.”

“Oh, of course, of course.” She tapped his arm with her folded fan and tittered. “Such a horrible thing, this trial. Best to see the man pay for his crimes, I say, but I’ll leave that to the men to decide, of course I will.”

Bancroft ignored his wife’s chatter, a habit Hunter suspected he used on a regular basis out of self-preservation, if nothing else. Instead, his gaze landed on Meredith. “Are you all right? Miss Connolly, is it?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. Sheriff Donovan was, in fact, just leaving. Weren’t you, Sheriff?”

It angered him how much he missed hearing her call him by his name. Sheriff Donovan made it sound like they were strangers, and they were far from that. He didn’t care how many years had passed.

Burrowing past his anger, however, was the sudden realization that Bancroft had referred to her by name. Strange, given she had only just arrived.

“Do you know each other?”

Bancroft’s gaze hit him full force and a strange chill reverberated up his spine. The man was an imposing figure, Hunter would give him that, but this was something else. This was instinct telling him to pay attention, but to what?

“I ran into Mr. Trent. He indicated Miss Connolly had recently returned to town.”

The explanation was reasonable. He himself had watched Bertram Trent meet Meredith at the hotel and see her inside. And yet...

“If you do not require assistance I will bid you good evening, Miss Connolly.” Bancroft touched the brim of his hat and strode down the hallway, his wife dithering after him, his daughter bringing up the rear, her pace much more sedate.

He turned back to Meredith. She had started to close the door. He stopped the door with his hand this time, garnering another glare.

“What now?”

“I don’t believe we were done with our conversation.”

“I’m quite certain we were.”

She was probably right. There wasn’t much else to say. He’d asked his questions and she’d reluctantly answered. He was stalling, not ready to cut the fragile connection, one-sided as it was. “So you’re staying. Opening your own business.”

“Yes.”

“That’s it?”

“Oh, well, there is one more thing on my agenda.”

The way she said it, the corners of her mouth curling upward, made the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention. It made other parts of his body take notice too, but he was trying to ignore them.

“And that is?”

“I plan on proving my father’s innocence once and for all.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting exactly, but it hadn’t been that. His hand fell away from the door and he took a step back. Meredith didn’t hesitate. She took the opportunity to slam the solid oak door in his face, missing his nose by a mere inch.

* * *

Meredith slid down the door. The damask silk of her dress scraped against the smooth wood and bunched on the floor at her feet. Her fingers shook as she plucked at the buttons lining the front of her dress. When she’d freed enough of them she switched her attention to the hooks holding her corset together. She’d often bemoaned her slight frame, but for now she was thankful she didn’t have to cinch her corset within an inch of her life to create the illusion of a small waist. It allowed her the ability to pop the hooks without too much struggle. Bit by bit the constriction released, but her breath did not come any easier.

Why had he insisted on coming over here? What had he hoped to accomplish? Hadn’t he caused her enough grief upon her exit from Salvation Falls? Was it truly necessary for him to heap more upon her now that she had returned? She knew she had to face him sooner or later, there was no way around it, but could he not have allowed her to arrange the meeting on her terms, in her own time. When she was ready.

Would she ever have been ready?

She closed her eyes, but the images that riddled the back of her lids did nothing to ease her state of anxiety. Tangled bodies, hungry mouths, searching hands.

Her eyelids flew open and she popped a few more hooks for good measure. Her skin burned, scalded by his nearness, by the unexpected assault on her senses. It wasn’t fair.

But perhaps expecting fairness from the likes of Sheriff Hunter Donovan had been overreaching. If fairness had been a part of his make-up, he would have married her proper. Instead, he’d turned his back on her and sent her to Boston, soiled and used, where no respectable gentleman would even think to offer for her. Not that she would have let them even if they had. Aunt Erma had it right. Better a woman learn to live under her own steam than to rely on something as silly and transitory as love.

Love.

She scoffed at the word now, but once upon a time she had believed in it with everything she had in her. Mama and Pa had set the example and she’d grown up in a house filled with love and affection. She’d had every intention of following in their footsteps, even thought she’d found the right man to do that with.

She’d been wrong.

Her parents had been the exception to the rule. The rule being that love was not something solid and strong. It was weak and fleeting and deserted you without hint or warning or reason. All it left in its wake were memories, and oh, how those could taunt. She drew up her knees and dropped her forehead to rest against them.

She had made the right decision to forsake such a fair-weather friend. Besides, she was a businesswoman now. Independent. She didn’t have time for softer emotions or relying on others. It was better that way. Really.

Oh, but the audacity of Hunter Donovan to show up on her doorstep and demand to know what she was doing here, stirring up everything old and stored away. The bravado! He had no right. No right at all.

Anger sluiced through her veins and teased her jagged nerves. Seeing him had left her unbalanced. Throughout her trip back to Salvation Falls she had wondered if the years would have left him untouched. They hadn’t. Instead they had honed the young man he’d been into a sharper image, chiseled in the fine details, added layers. The lankiness of youth had been replaced with lean muscle and an air of almighty confidence that told him he had the right to show up at her door and demand answers to his questions.

What had he seen when he looked at her? She dared glance at the full length mirror on the opposite wall. Her reflection was captured there, undone and pooled in wrinkled silk damask. Had she at least appeared poised when facing him? Or had he been able to see through the facade to how his sudden appearance had rattled her?

Her fingers tangled into her dress to keep them from shaking, but her insides did not comply. They roiled and twisted around the memories she had buried deep, coaxing them back to the surface. She tried to stuff them back down, but their residue lingered, sweet and intoxicating, bitter and hateful.

Tomorrow she would have to face him again. To do battle with her memories. Seeing him, standing close enough to touch him made every scar he’d laid across her unruly heart throb with pain and regret.

How much could a body withstand before it suffered too much? Before the floodgates opened and dropped her to her knees.

She had a sinking feeling she was on the verge of finding out.