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
