Montana Fever. Jackie Merritt

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I would. One pass and Duke’s apt to get an earful.”

      “That’s my girl,” Charlie said approvingly. “Keep ’im on the straight and narrow.”

      “I fully intend to.”

      That night, lying in bed, Lola wondered how true that statement was. If Duke made a pass, would she really give him what for? He was incredibly attractive, after all, and depending on how the evening went, a good-night kiss might not be at all out of line.

      It was a wait-and-see proposition, she decided with a yawn. Turning onto her side, she got comfortable and closed her eyes. It was pleasant to fall asleep thinking of devilish golden brown eyes and a smile that would melt snow during a Montana blizzard.

      

      In his bed at the ranch, Duke stared into the dark and thought about Lola Fanon. He’d gone into her store merely to size it up, not to buy a wardrobe he sure as hell didn’t need. That hat, for instance. There were five Stetsons of various colors in his closet, six counting the new one, and he certainly hadn’t needed another pair of boots.

      But he’d gotten absolutely silly over Lola and started buying things like a love-struck kid, just to keep her talking to him. Damn, she was pretty. Smart, too. And gutsy. Imagine her traveling all over the world by herself. Had he ever met a more fascinating woman?

      “Nope,” he mumbled aloud. “Probably never will, either.”

      He wanted her. The tight, uncomfortable sensation in his gut was unmistakably sexual. But there was more than unfulfilled desire keeping him awake; he liked Lola. He liked her bright mind and self-confidence, the way she moved and held her head so high, the courage with which she obviously faced life. There was only one aspect of her personality that he found a little disturbing, her air of independence.

      But hell, a man could get around “independent,” couldn’t he? Especially when everything else about a woman was damned near perfect?

      Heaving a sigh, he forced Lola from his mind to think about the ranch and tomorrow’s chores. He had three fulltime ranch hands on the payroll, plus an older couple, June and Rufe Hansen. June took care of the house and meals, and Rufe was an all-around handyman, seeing to the grounds, and any repairs to the house, servicing the vehicles and doing any other odd jobs that popped up. The Hansens had been hired by Duke’s father, Hugh, about fifteen years ago, so they were sort of like family to Duke. The only family he had, really. They were also the only people who actually lived on the ranch, besides himself, of course. Hugh had built them a little house about a half mile from the main house, giving them and himself privacy. The Sheridan Ranch covered over four thousand acres of prime Montana grazing land, so there was no reason for people to live on top of each other.

      Hugh had also built the main house, which Duke now occupied all by his lonesome. He was very different from his father. Hugh had constructed a large house with plenty of bedrooms and bathrooms so he could invite overnight guests to the ranch, which he had done often. Since his death, there’d been no overnight guests in the Sheridan home, not even Tess Hunnicutt, whom Duke had dated for several years.

      He frowned in the dark as Tess entered his mind. He had almost married Tess. Rather, she had presumed that conclusion and he had gone along with it until one night when they were together and it struck him that he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with Tess. She was a nonstop talker, which in the early stages of their relationship he had found amusing. But her constant chatter had gradually worn thin. When he realized his loss of feelings for Tess, he had told her in the gentlest way possible that they had no future together. She had stunned him with a scathing fury and a spate of angry words. He’d walked out. About a month later, he’d heard that she had moved to Missoula. Since then there hadn’t been anyone important. He had women friends, to be sure, but none who were counting on a wedding ring.

      Now there was Lola, who seemed to be head and shoulders above any woman he’d ever met. Time would tell if that was really true, but he knew one thing for certain: he was anxious as hell for Friday night to roll around so he could see her again.

      Punching his pillow into a more comfortable configuration, he closed his eyes. He had to get some sleep, since 5:00 a.m. wasn’t that far off, and he had a full day of work scheduled for tomorrow.

      

       The lady in the blue sedan was startled to see a young woman leave Charles Fanon’s home, get into a red car and drive away. It was 7:45 a.m. She had awakened very early and driven to the Fanon residence and business for another look at the place. The last thing she had expected to see was a young, pretty woman so early in the morning. Obviously the woman had spent the night in the house. Who was she? She seemed too young to be Charles Fanon’s wife, but one never knew. Then again, with such a large residence, maybe Charles rented out rooms.

       Perplexed, she started her car and followed the red car at a discreet distance. It was driven behind a line of connecting businesses and then parked. When the driver went through one of the back doors of the block-long building, the woman in the blue car slowly drove close enough to the door to see a sign: Deliveries Only. Men’s Western Wear.

       Okay, so she worked at a men’s clothing store. Or maybe the woman owned it. She wanted to get a closer look at the young woman and decided to return later, after the store was open for a while and other customers would be present.

       Driving away, she returned to the Sundowner Motel and room 116.

      “How is Brian this morning?” Lola asked when Betty arrived at opening time the next morning.

      “Brian’s fine. The doctor said to keep him quiet for one day, then send him back to school. Mrs. Miller from down the street is at the house with him. She always watches the kids when Tom and I go out, and she was more than happy to stay with Brian today.”

      “Betty, if Brian’s home today, you really didn’t have to come in,” Lola admonished.

      “I promise he’s all right,” Betty said. “I would never leave one of my kids if they weren’t.” She then added with an impish smile, “I’m dying to hear what happened with you and Duke Sheridan yesterday.”

      Lola was preparing the cash register for the day. “What makes you think anything happened?”

      “What an innocent expression! You should have been an actress, Lola Fanon.”

      Lola grinned. “And you should have been a gossip columnist. Okay, I give. There’s not that much to tell, anyway. He asked me out. We’re seeing a movie together on Friday evening.”

      “I knew it!” Betty’s blue eyes glowed with excitement. “I could tell he fell head over heels the second he saw you.”

      Lola scoffed. “That’s silly. All I am to the flirtatious Mr. Sheridan is a new face.”

      The first customer of the day walked in, and Betty went to greet him. Finishing her counter work, Lola wondered if she hadn’t hit the nail on the head with her comment of merely being a new face to Duke. The idea was oddly discomfiting, but it certainly could be true.

      She realized that she really didn’t know what to think, and wouldn’t know any more about it than she did right now until she spent some time with Duke. What would Friday night bring, disappointment or more intrigue?

      Shaking her head over her mental rambling, she walked over to the shirt racks.

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