Loe raamatut: «Captivating A Cowboy»

Chapter One

Tony saw her the instant she walked into the hardware store. He paused in the aisle and studied the fine piece of eye candy that had sauntered in off the street, putting every fiber of his male being on alert. Her long ponytail twitched over bared shoulders. Snug shorts dipped below a slim waist, showing a band of firm brown flesh where her cropped top didn’t quite meet up with denim. Long slender legs completed the sexy little female package he judged to be about twenty-five years old.

Conversations dropped off one by one until every man in the store, including old Mr. Dunn, turned his head. Cliff, working behind the counter, looked like a deer caught in headlights as she approached him.

Tony was too far away to hear what she asked, but he could see the tips of Cliff’s ears turn a bright red. He pointed to the back of the store. She turned, and Tony felt like someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the place. She had a face like an angel, with big blue-green eyes and a generous upper lip over a full lower lip. A mouth made for kissing and a body built straight out of every man’s fantasy.

Suddenly the fact that every guy in the store was probably thinking the same thing annoyed the hell out of him. He had a sudden irrational and possessively childish urge to tell them he had seen her first.

He shook his head at his own foolishness. He had better things to do with his time than stand in Nilsen’s Hardware and have fantasies that could get him arrested in half the states in the country. If he was going to get his house finished on his land before the cold weather set in so he could move out of his tiny unheated trailer, he needed to get going.

Yeah, right, he thought, rooted to the spot as he watched the utterly female way she walked.

She made her way to the power tools and bent over the boxes that contained sanders. Tony bit back a groan and headed for the counter to pay for his supplies.

A man could only take so much.

Cliff rang up the sack of nails and caulking. He made change, his attention not on what he was doing. Tony had to grab the coins before they dropped on the counter.

“Who is she?” Tony asked, resisting the urge to turn around and take another long look.

Cliff shrugged and leaned to the side so he could see around Tony. “Don’t know. This is the first she’s been in here.”

She had to be new in town, Tony thought. In Ferndale strangers never went unnoticed. Especially women who looked as good as this one.

He lingered until Cliff straightened up and smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt, alerting Tony to the fact she was on her way to the counter. He moved a few feet away to look at a display of saw blades.

She walked by him carrying a box and trailing the fragrance of summer flowers, sweet and fresh.

“Does this sander come with instructions?” She laid a credit card beside the box.

Tony stifled a groan. He was all for equal opportunity, but unskilled women and power tools were generally a bad combination.

Cliff slid her plastic credit card across the counter, swiped it through his machine and handed it back before Tony could read the name on it.

Cliff mumbled and reached to open the box. He waved a piece of paper. “Sorry, miss, no operating instructions. Just the usual safety warnings.” He handed her the credit slip to sign.

Unable to help himself, Tony stepped closer, hoping his carnal thoughts didn’t show on his face. “Excuse me, miss. Maybe I could help.”

Julie turned to glance at the great-looking man she had noticed lurking by a display of big metal wheels with wicked teeth. Boy, they sure didn’t grow them like this in Los Angeles. From the top of his cowboy hat to the tips of his leather boots, he was one tall gorgeous hunk of man.

She flashed him her best smile. “Could help me with what?” she asked, wondering exactly what he meant.

She liked the way he squirmed just a little as she studied him. Shy, perhaps. Handsome as he was, he didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who would be bashful around women. She also liked the muscles that showed through the close fit of his white T-shirt. Brawn like his was the result of hard outdoor work and not a gym.

He took off his hat and ran a big square hand through his cropped dark chocolate-brown hair, then gestured to the box the middle-aged clerk struggled to repackage. “The sander, ma’am.”

The cowboy was blushing. She swallowed a smile. Was it possible he was just being neighborly and not flirting?

She hoped not.

She was going to be in Ferndale all summer, and had no friends here. No one she knew from Los Angeles was likely to come for a visit. She’d been dreading being stuck in this small town for three long months.

Quaint Victorian Ferndale hadn’t changed any since she’d left almost ten years ago to go to college. Now that she’d used her credit card, within hours everyone in town would know she was back in Northern California. Give her a big city any day. There was no such thing as privacy in a small town.

She winked at him. “Thanks, cowboy, but I think I can manage.”

At least she could learn. With her budget and time limit, she had to become adept quickly to finish all the things that needed doing to her grandmother’s house.

Her house now.

She wanted get the place fixed up and put it on the market. She had to get back to L.A. before the school year started.

He tapped his forefinger on the box. “Do you have any experience with power tools?”

The cowboy had a polite earnestness about him she found appealing. The men she knew were so into their own image and being cool they would never show the kind of interest she saw on his handsome face.

She shrugged, amused that he would assume she couldn’t manage by herself because she was a woman. She was smart and could figure out how to do what needed to be done.

Julie glanced around at the men who had gathered to listen openly to their conversation, then gave them a smile.

“How hard can it be? You all know how to use them, don’t you?” she asked sweetly, then picked up the box and sauntered out onto Main Street.

Every pair of eyes watched her leave. As she disappeared from sight, Tony swore he heard a collective male sigh from inside the store.

Tony turned to Cliff. “Who is she?”

Cliff scratched his bald head, still staring at the now empty door. “Dunno.”

Tony reached over and pulled the credit slip out of Cliff’s fingers.

“Julie Kerns.” He read aloud.

“That was little Julie Kerns?” Mr. Dunn peered around Tony trying to see the slip of paper.

Tony turned to stare at the old man. “You know her?”

Mr. Dunn nodded. “She used to live here. Moved in with her grandma when she was a little girl after her folks died.”

“Where does her grandmother live?”

“Doesn’t. Her grandma was Bessie Morgan. Died about two months ago.”

Tony thought for a minute. The name was vaguely familiar. “The blue-and-white Queen Anne style house with the vines over by the church?”

Mr. Dunn nodded. “Yup. Heard Julie got the house. Must be moving in.”

Tony stored that bit of information away and left the store whistling.

He’d find a reason to go and pay the little lady a call and remind her how neighborly Ferndale could be.

Tony stood on the sidewalk in the hot noon sun and shifted the ladder on his shoulder to a more comfortable position. He contemplated the cottage belonging to the very enticing Julie Kerns.

Two things came to mind.

First, the house was a marvel of workmanship, with all the trim and special touches that went into a Queen Anne. Not as fussy as most Victorians, he’d always liked the design.

Second, the place needed a heck of a lot of work.

For starters, the top two wooden steps to the porch were rotten. He glanced up and noted the rain gutter had rusted through in several places. That explained the rot.

He leaned the new ladder she’d ordered against the side of his truck and hefted the five gallon cans of plastering compound and primer.

Skirting the rotten wood, he climbed the stairs and set the cans beside the front door. The doorbell, a round crank set in the wall, rang loud enough to be heard in the next block.

Within moments, he saw her through the beveled glass window set in the middle of the door. She wore baggy old jeans and a big shirt. He missed yesterday’s outfit.

Julie opened the door and raised an eyebrow. “Hello, cowboy.”

He grinned at her and tipped his hat. “Afternoon, Miss Kerns.” He’d forgotten how pretty she was.

“Please, it’s Julie.” She didn’t seem surprised that he knew her name.

“I’m Tony. Tony Graham.”

She gave him that great smile of hers, then glanced down and spotted the cans. “Do you work at the hardware store?”

“No, ma’am. Just doing Cliff a favor. His wife took the truck to Redding to do some shopping.”

Tony hoisted the cans and she stood aside so he could enter. “Where do you want these?”

“Upstairs. But you can leave them right there.”

“I’ll take them up for you. Lead the way.”

He enjoyed the sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs ahead of him.

She turned into one of the front bedrooms. He set the cans inside the door. She’d been busy. All the furniture had been pushed into the middle of the room and covered with a tarp.

Tony gave a low whistle when he looked up and saw the water damage to the ceiling and walls. Big chunks of plaster were missing. “Roof?”

She nodded. “Yes. Bessie hated to spend money and waited until the leak got really bad before she had it repaired.”

He nodded. Lots of people put off work, then ended up paying more. He didn’t understand their logic.

Dubious that a novice had a chance of doing a decent plaster job, Tony wandered over to a damaged wall and turned to eye the book she held. “You ever do any plaster repair?”

“Not yet.” She slapped the book she was holding closed and set it on top of the tarp, then put her hands on her hips.

She sure did look determined.

She studied him for so long he wanted to squirm. Then she squared her shoulder as if she had made a decision and asked, “Have you had lunch?”

It took him a moment to react. He didn’t expect the question. “No. I was just about to take a break.” His lunch was in his truck.

“Good. Have lunch with me.”

Tony was both surprised and pleased at her invitation. He had been trying to decide how to ask her out. Now they could get acquainted over a sandwich at the kitchen table.

“Sure. That would be great.”

“I have to warn you, I have an ulterior motive.”

Tony raised an eyebrow as a quick fantasy shot through his mind.

She tapped her book with a slender forefinger. “I want to pick your brain about plastering techniques.”

Oh, well, he thought, feeling a little deflated, at least she wanted to have lunch with him.

He followed her downstairs and instead of turning toward the back of the house where he assumed the kitchen would be, she went out the front door.

“We’re going out?”

Julie looked back at him over her shoulder with a smile. “My treat. I don’t cook.”

He wanted to ask her why not. Cooking was basic for existing as far as he was concerned. Did she eat all her meals out? It seemed a little too soon to ask. Some women got so prickly when a guy asked questions like that.

“Okay.” He wasn’t comfortable with her picking up the tab even if it was her idea, but they could discuss that when the time came.

Tony closed the front door behind him and walked with her a half block until they hit Main Street. They chatted about how the town had not changed at all in the years since she had left.

“Village Bakery okay with you?”

“Sure.” He’d eat the lunch in his truck for supper.

They found a table and gave the waitress their order.

Julie smiled at him and he went warm all over. What a beauty, with her streaked brown hair and blue-green eyes. He smiled back and noticed she had flecks of gold in her eyes that matched the streaks in her hair.

“Now, about plastering.”

He didn’t care why she had invited him to lunch. If she smiled at him like that she could have anything she wanted. “What do you need to know?”

She shrugged. “Everything.”

Tony laughed loudly enough that everyone in the bakery turned to look at the two of them.

“You sure you want to do this yourself? I’d be glad to help.” He could take some time off from building his house.

She hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the table, then back up at him. “No, thanks. I’m going to do it myself, but I’m not above wangling a few tips. How did you learn to do plastering?”

“My dad and I built the house my folks live in now when I was a teenager. He was in construction before he started ranching.”

“Do your parents live around here?”

“No. Wyoming.”

“How did you come to live in Ferndale?”

He felt a quick stab of the familiar pain associated with the accident, Jimmy’s death, and how he had come to be where he was. “I inherited a piece of property just outside of town. I’m building my own place there now.”

The waitress set their sandwiches in front of them. He thanked her and between bites, steered the conversation back to plastering. He told Julie everything he could think of that would help her do the job.

She asked a few questions, then mentioned her grandmother again, commenting on all the stuff she still needed to clean out.

He eyed her curiously. “You called your grandmother by her first name?”

Her expressive blue-green eyes became shuttered for a moment, then she gave him a rueful smile. “Bessie never liked being called Grandma.”

Tony tucked that bit of information away to ponder later.

“You have a lot of work to do on the place before you move in.” He hadn’t missed the peeling wallpaper and chipped paint.

She laughed. “I’m moved in, but it’s temporary. As soon as I can get the placed fixed up, it goes on the market and I go home.”

“Where’s home?” He didn’t like the thought of her leaving Ferndale. He had plans to get to know her better.

A lot better.

“Los Angeles.”

He couldn’t think of a worse place to live. “Why?”

She raised a finely arched eyebrow. “Why what?”

“Why do you live there?” It must be for her job.

She laughed. “Because I like it. Why do you live in Ferndale?”

He grinned at her. “Because I like it.” Or at least he would when he could move into his own home.

“What do you do in L.A.?” He wondered what kind of job would keep her there.

“I teach high school. English.”

The waitress brought the bill and they both reached for it. “I invited you.” Julie jerked the slip of paper out of his hand.

“Half?” He didn’t let women buy him meals. It might be old-fashioned, but it didn’t set right.

“No. Then I’ll feel guilty for picking your brain the whole time we ate.”

Tony shrugged, then thought of a plan. “Okay. But only if you agree to have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

Julie watched him for a minute. He sensed her hesitation, then she gave him another of her great smiles. “Deal.”

He watched her walk up to the counter to pay.

He’d never had a teacher who looked like Ms. Kerns. The boys in her classes probably had a hard time keeping their minds on the subject matter when she was standing in front of the class.

He stood up and pulled two bills out of his pocket for the tip. She saw him leave the money on the table and rolled her eyes.

They walked back to her house in companionable silence.

He glanced over at her. She could teach anywhere. Why would she choose to live in a big smelly city like Los Angeles? Maybe a guy kept her there. He didn’t like the thought.

“So you teach English. Fond of the classics?” He liked her hair. So many different shades of brown.

She shrugged. “I’m fond of all kinds of books.”

He had been, too, once. He had devoured books, losing himself for hours in them. Since the accident he had to struggle to read, and the frustration ruined the pleasure.

When they got to her place Tony unloaded the rest of her order and carried a ladder and bag of small hand tools upstairs. The banister was loose and needed bracing.

He found Julie leaning against a piece of covered furniture, holding her how-to book and frowning.

“You need me to stay?” He glanced over at the book she studied. Doing plaster work took some skill. Even with everything he’d told her he was skeptical that she could manage alone.

“Nope.” She glanced up from the page she studied and smiled. “Remember? I’m going to do it myself.”

He wondered why she was so stubborn about not having help. He’d be willing to take time off from working on his own house. He didn’t say anything. From the set of her shoulders and the jut of her chin it was obvious she was intent on tackling the job herself.

He’d give her the rest of the day to see how hard the job was, then come back and see if she’d changed her mind about his help.

He reached into the bag and pulled out the goggles and dust mask he had purchased and added to her order.

“Come over here.” Tony motioned to her.

When she hesitated, he said, “Just more friendly advice.”

She shrugged and moved to his side. Her hair smelled like lemons, and he fought the urge to lean closer and inhale.

He positioned her under the worst of the damage, liking the feel of her warm skin under her cotton shirt.

Reluctantly he let go of her and pointed to the ceiling. “Always wear these.” He held up the mask and goggles. “They’ll get in your way, but you’ll get used to them. Be sure to chip off all the stained plaster. Otherwise, the stain will bleed through your new paint.”

“Okay.” She glanced up to the ceiling and back to his face.

Tony handed over the safety equipment and wanted to reach for her, the urge to kiss her strong.

He pulled back. Whoa, way too soon for a move like that, he thought. Instead he stepped away and opened the ladder, positioning it under a gaping hole in the ceiling. “Good luck.”

As he turned to leave, she said, “’Bye, Tony. And thanks.”

“Anytime. Thanks for lunch.” He gave her a smile before he started down the stairs.

Julie watched him go, then glanced down at the goggles and mask dangling from her fingers. His concern about her safety touched her.

She ran a finger over the ridges in the blue mask. The handsome man had some kind of problem with speech comprehension and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She’d noticed how he’d watched her face intently as she spoke, and then there would be a bit of lag time before he replied. She didn’t think he was deaf, but perhaps she was wrong and he was reading lips.

Curiosity got the better of her and she went out to the upstairs landing and leaned over the rail just as he opened the front door.

“Tony?” She kept her voice very quiet.

He turned immediately. “Yes?”

Well, his hearing was fine. She groped for something to say. “Ah, if you see Cliff, tell him thanks for the delivery.”

He tipped his hat. “Sure thing. Be careful not to lean on that banister. It’s loose.” He closed the door behind him.

She knew the railing was loose. She just hadn’t gotten to that chapter in her fix-it book yet.

She glanced around the upstairs landing. How hard could it be? She had the tools and the how-to book. If she sold the place as a fixer-upper she would get a lot less for it, and she needed the money.

Her dream was to take time off teaching to write. She had ideas for several children’s books, but she needed the time. Teaching seemed to drain away her creativity.

She’d sublet her apartment at the beach for the summer and planned to spend her vacation repairing plaster and painting. Then she’d put the house up for sale and go back to Los Angeles in time to start teaching. When the house sold, she’d take a leave of absence to write.

Julie walked back into the bedroom. She’d checked recent sale prices of Victorians in Ferndale. She figured she could take next year, maybe even the next two, off if she moved away from the beach and into a cheaper apartment.

There were a few pieces of her grandmother’s furniture she’d like to keep, but the rest she could offer with the house. She made a mental note to talk to the people who ran the Foggy Bottom Antiques Store and Cream City Antiques. They might be willing to take some of it on consignment.

Her mind wandered back to Tony. Why had she agreed to dinner tomorrow night? She didn’t plan to get involved. She’d ended her on-again-off-again relationship with Alan before she left L.A. He had indicated he wanted to get more serious, and she wasn’t interested in a commitment.

Julie rummaged through the bag from the hardware store and laid out the tools recommended in the book. In L.A. she wouldn’t think of going out with someone she didn’t know. But here in Ferndale nobody was really a stranger.

She turned her attention back to work and did a quick scan of the section on repairing plaster. She climbed the ladder to get to the damaged wall, then donned the mask and goggles. Within minutes of chipping away at the plaster dust covered her hair and sifted into her bra.

She sneezed and a cloud of fine white powder drifted down.

Why would anyone choose to do this kind of work? She thought of Tony as she wiped at her face with her sleeve, then climbed back down the ladder to tuck a rag in the waistband of her jeans.

She flipped on the portable compact disk player and with Jimmy Buffett wailing about cheeseburgers in paradise, she went back to work.

By midafternoon her arms ached. Even though she had worn the goggles, she had to use saline drops to get the dust out of her eyes. But she’d made good progress. All the old plaster was down. Tomorrow she would start patching. Her arms were too sore to start today.

Julie took a shower and washed the plaster out of her hair. Then she fixed herself a snack and contemplated what she would do with the rest of the afternoon.

The closets. Bessie had a lifetime of stuff stored on the shelves and in the cupboards. Julie felt like an intruder going through her grandmother’s belongings, but it had to be done.

The woman had never shared anything personal with Julie, and would probably be horrified that someone was poking through her things, but Julie couldn’t get rid of them without sorting them.

Reluctantly she trudged back up the stairs and started in the room where she had slept as a teenager.

She slipped off her shoes and used the chair from the dressing table to reach the shelves in the closet. There were boxes of hats and gloves that must have dated back to the forties. Bessie had worn a hat to church every Sunday.

Julie wondered if they would be worth anything at a vintage clothing store. She knew of a good one in L.A. she could call, she thought as she piled them in a corner of the room.

After she finished the closet, she opened the cupboards above the closet. Large boxes marked Bedding were stacked to the top of the space. Had her grandmother saved old bedding as well as old clothes?

Julie reached as high as she could and tugged at the top box. It seemed to be caught on the box below. She should go get the ladder, but she was tired and the thought of getting down to get the darned thing was too much work.

She gave the box a yank and it slid toward her. The cardboard came apart in her hands and a waterfall of huge leather-bound books tumbled down on her, knocking her from the chair.

As she hit the floor beside the bed she heard a sound that reminded her of a dry twig breaking.

She lay up against the bed, stunned. The books were ledgers from the insurance business her grandfather had run in Ferndale for years.

Furious with herself for being so stupid, she struggled to sit up. It hurt to move her right arm and she had a gash on the inside of her left elbow that was starting to bleed freely. Her legs felt okay, so she struggled to her feet and grabbed a towel from the bathroom to hold against the cut.

She got as far as the top of the stairs when she started to feel dizzy, so she lowered herself to the top step and leaned against the wall. She needed a moment to think about what she’d do next.

Tony skirted the rotten boards on Julie’s steps and paused at the front door. He glanced down at the plaster finishing tool he held in his hand. His offer of help so soon after she had turned him down twice might make her mad, but getting a smooth finish to match the rest of the room was tricky, and he wanted to help her out.

He turned the crank on the old doorbell.

“Come in.”

He heard her faintly through the heavy door. He stepped into the dim foyer and glanced up the stairs to find her sitting on the top step. She’d washed her hair and changed clothes.

He smiled. “Wear yourself out?”

“Something like that,” she said, her voice flat and low.

She was mad at him and he hadn’t even offered his help yet. She’d undoubtedly spotted the trowel in his hand.

But then he realized as he looked up at her something was wrong. She was leaning against the wall as if she needed the support. Her face was pale and drawn.

He dropped the trowel and took the stairs two at a time, flipped on the light switch and crouched down on the step below her.

“You showed up at just the right time,” she said, an edge of pain in her voice.

He could see her struggle not to cry and it tore him up inside. “What happened?” He didn’t want to touch her until she told him where she hurt.

“I was cleaning out a cupboard and pulled a box of books down on my head.”