I’m trying to figure out how such a term became part of your Harvard-educated vernacular.”
“Lauren,” Emma said succinctly. “She spent all last night telling me which Hollywood leading men were really hotties and which ones weren’t. It was quite an illuminating conversation. It set my heart aflutter, I’ll tell you that.”
“Oh, really?” Karen said. “Do you think maybe you’ve been single and celibate a little too long now? Maybe it’s time to start looking for a replacement for your despicable ex-husband—or at least a hot date for Saturday night.”
“I’m a single mom,” Emma reminded her. “I don’t have ‘hot dates.”’
“Then look for something more serious,” Karen advised. “I’m sure Caitlyn would be delighted to have a stepdaddy around, especially one who actually pays some attention to her.”
“I think our friend here already found somebody,” Cassie said, giving Emma a sly look.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I have not,” Emma protested.
“I don’t know,” Cassie countered. “I’ve seen you and the local newspaper editor with your heads together an awful lot lately. The two of you are in Stella’s almost as much as I am, and I work there.”
“And you know why that is,” Emma said tightly. “It’s about the case I’m working on. That’s it. There is nothing personal involved.”
“Protesting too much?” Cassie said, gazing around at the rest of them.
“Definitely,” they chorused.
“Well, get over it,” Emma snapped, gathering up her purse, her coat and her briefcase in a sudden rush. “I have to go.”
She took a few steps across the room, then came back for the cell phone that was never more than an arm’s length away. Then she swept out before any of them could react.
“Was it something we said?” Karen asked, staring after her.
“I think we hit the nail on the head,” Cassie said, her expression thoughtful. “Wouldn’t it be great if Emma did fall madly in love with Ford Hamilton or someone else in Winding River?”
“Just because you’re married now doesn’t mean that the rest of us have to jump into relationships,” Gina pointed out.
“This isn’t about having a relationship, though I think it would be great if she did,” Cassie said. “It’s just that I dread seeing Emma go back to Denver when this case here is over. She’s been more relaxed the last few months, despite all of the commuting back and forth to Denver and the pressure of the trial coming up.”
“That’s true,” Lauren agreed. “She almost forgot her cell phone tonight. For a while last summer I thought it was attached to her hand.”
They all fell silent as they considered Emma’s welfare. It would be nice if she stayed, Karen thought. In fact, about the only thing good to come out of their high school reunion was that the five of them were spending more time in Wyoming again. She had missed having a tight-knit circle of friends more than she’d realized. And now, with Caleb gone, she treasured the friendships more than ever.
“Thank you for coming all the way over here tonight,” she told them. “I don’t know what I would have done without you these past few months. Every time I’ve been ready to come unglued, you’ve been here.”
“And we’ll continue to be here whenever you need us,” Lauren said. “You can count on it.”
That made two things today she could count on, Karen thought—her friends, and Grady Blackhawk’s threat that he would be back time and again until she gave up and sold him the land he wanted.
Maybe it was all of Emma’s talk about Grady’s undeniable sex appeal, but that threat wasn’t striking fear into her the way it should have, not the way it had just this afternoon. In fact, to her very deep regret, she was beginning to feel just the slightest hint of anticipation.
Chapter Three
Without even setting foot out of bed in the morning, Karen knew she was going to get up on the wrong side of it. Thanks to Emma, she had spent the whole night trying unsuccessfully to chase Grady Blackhawk out of her dreams. She’d awakened hot and restless, amid a tangle of sheets. She’d been feeling guilty to boot, all over sins her subconscious had committed in her sleep.
“I can’t be blamed for that,” she muttered as she shivered in the icy air and hastily pulled on jeans and an old flannel shirt of Caleb’s. She hugged the shirt tighter around herself as a reminder of the man who’d really counted for something in her life.
She’d been doing that a lot lately, wearing shirts left hanging in Caleb’s closet. Not all of them still held his scent, but the feel of the soft, faded flannel comforted her. It reminded her of evenings spent snuggled in his lap in front of a fire. It was a secret she’d shared with no one, fearful that her friends would chastise her for not moving on, for not letting go. She knew she had to, and she would when the time was right.
Just not yet, she thought with a sigh.
Once she’d tugged on thick socks and her boots, she went downstairs and turned up the thermostat to take the chill out of the air while she made a pot of coffee. To save on fuel costs, she would turn it back down again when she went outside to do the chores. Maybe it would only save pennies, but pennies counted these days.
She poured herself a cup of coffee, then took a sip. She cupped the mug in her hands to savor the warmth, then gazed out the window over the sink, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sunrise, rather than the more typical gray winter mornings they’d been having lately.
Instead, what she saw was Grady, unloading things from the back of his truck, looking perfectly at home. The sight of the man, after all those disturbing dreams, struck Karen as an omen. And not for anything good, either. No, indeed. His arrival definitely meant trouble. In fact, it looked almost as if he’d come to stay, as if he’d decided to claim this place whether she agreed to it or not.
She snatched a heavy jacket off the hook by the door and stormed outside, determined to put a stop to whatever he was up to. She was so infuriated by his presumption that he could just waltz in here and take over, she was surprised steam didn’t rise from her as she crossed the yard.
“Why are you here again?” she demanded, her tone deliberately unfriendly. The time for politeness and feigned hospitality was past. “I thought I’d made myself clear yesterday. You’re not welcome.”
He barely stopped what he was doing long enough to glance at her. His gaze skimmed her over from head to toe, his lips curved into the beginnings of a smile, then his attention went right back to a stack of lumber he was pulling from the back of the fancy new four-by-four.
That truck, parked next to her dilapidated pickup, which was in serious need of a paint job and a tune-up, grated on her nerves almost as much as his attitude. The man seemed to be mocking her in every way he knew.
“I asked you a question,” she snapped.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said without any real hint of regret. “Figured you’d
