His gaze swung from the boy to the mother. “You holding out on me, Laura?”
She smiled sweetly. “And not for the first time, either.” She nudged Zach forward. “Come on, honey, I need to put this pie down and then we’ll see if any of your friends are here.”
“Okay.” The boy gave Matt a last wistful glance before turning away.
That’s what came from having Matt bumbling around with her remodeling project, she thought self-righteously, following the boy weaving his way through the crowd. Thank heaven, the job would be finished soon—she devoutly hoped—and then surely Zach would get over this bad case of hero worship.
Please let him get over it!
Matt watched her walk away, wondering how a man was supposed to deal with a woman like that. Hell, she even ironed her jeans, put creases in the damned things! And with those nicely fitting jeans she wore a white silk shirt that clung in all the right places. Denim and silk: a helluva sexy combo for an Ice Queen like Laura Gilliam.
Dylan chuckled softly. “Just what did that mean?” he inquired, jutting his chin after Laura.
“What did what mean?” As if Matt didn’t know.
“When you ask if she’s holdin’ out on you, she says it’s not the first time. Something goin’ on I don’t know about?”
“Hell, no.” Matt took off in the same direction she’d disappeared. “What say we go liberate us a couple of cold ones.”
“Best idea you’ve had all day.”
Tubs overflowing with cans and bottles of beer and ice stood beneath the shade of cottonwood trees. Off to one side, long trestle tables with paper coverings groaned beneath the weight of food provided by the townspeople. Matt himself had made a contribution: a tub of fried chicken from a fast-food store.
Fishing out his preferred brand of beer, he ignored Dylan’s running commentary about one thing or another and instead watched Laura talking to Marilyn Rogers, the mayor. Marilyn cocked her silver head attentively, apparently enthralled by whatever the lovely Mrs. Gilliam might be saying.
And she was lovely. Matt had thought so the moment he saw her, a new employee at his grandfather’s newspaper. But he knew she was a widow, and out of respect for her loss he’d waited a year before he asked her out—a whole year. It hadn’t been easy, either, because he’d been intrigued by her from the first.
On their one and only date, they’d gone to the popular local saloon called the Painted Pony, had dinner and even danced a little. He’d found her quiet, almost shy, which didn’t jibe with any of the newspaper people he’d ever known. But then, he’d decided she was probably just intimidated because he was her boss’s grandson.
He was also owner of his own successful construction company and proud of the town where he’d been born and raised. He worked hard for the Rawhide Chamber of Commerce and the local Kids’ Club and every other civic issue that came along, and had donated the labor to erect the bandstand in the park. In short, he was very involved in community life.
She wasn’t, outside of her work. And despite her beauty, he hadn’t exactly seen guys knocking down her door to get friendly. Most of the eligible men in town were probably put off by her aloof manner, but not Matt.
Something told him that with a little effort, she could relax enough to be a whole lot of fun—and he was more than willing to help her. That’s why, when he took her home, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
It was a nice kiss—a real nice kiss. For a moment, she’d felt compliant and warm in his arms. Her lips were incredibly soft beneath his, and unexpectedly he felt something...something hopeful flip over in his chest... something like his heart. The kiss was so much more than he’d expected!
Breathless and shocked, he’d pulled back to stare down at her face, illuminated by the porch light. She looked dazed, and for a moment her fingers clutched at his arms. But just as he was opening his mouth to tell her he thought she was just about the greatest thing since sliced bread, she yanked away, gave him a withering look and slapped him so hard his jaw still ached just thinking about it.
Needless to say, there had been no more dates with Laura Gilliam, nor would there be. The slap said it all; you didn’t have to hit Matt Reynolds over the head with a two-by-four.
But over the intervening months, he’d found himself reliving that incident and wondering what had happened. Because something still whispered to him that if she ever let herself go—
Dylan stepped in front of Matt and yelled in his face. “Hey! You heard a word I’ve been sayin’?”
“No.” Matt snapped out of his trip down memory lane. “Was it important?”
Dylan grimaced. “I just asked you a question, is all.”
“Care to run it by me one more time?”
“I just wanna know if Brandee is your date today or are you free to get into trouble with the rest of us boys?” Dylan winked broadly.
Matt sensed a friendly poker game in the offing and felt a moment’s regret. “Yeah, Brandee’s coming later.”
Dylan did not look happy to hear it. “Isn’t that gettin’ just a little too serious?”
Matt recoiled. “No! I got more sense than that. Dammit, Dylan, I just got tired of her chasin’ me. She’s been after me for years, although God knows why. I just finally got tired of runnin’.”
“It’s probably the old ‘football hero and the cheerleader’ thing,” Dylan agreed. “Just watch your step, buddy. She can be real unpredictable.”
Dylan led the way toward a group of men clustered around a horse someone had ridden in on, and Matt fell in beside him. But his thoughts were elsewhere, on the woman who seemed intent on tracking him down, and the other woman who didn’t even like to be in the same room with him.
Damn but life was strange, and women were stranger still.
“Hi, Miz Gilliam, can Zach come play with us kids?”
Laura looked around to find Jessica Reynolds grinning at her. “Well,” she said, “I’m not sure—”
“Please, Mama?” Zach inserted.
Aware that she was frequently called overprotective, Laura tried to calm fears she knew were completely unfounded. Bravely she asked, “Will you keep an eye on him, Jessica?”
“Sure!” The girl pushed all that long hair behind her ears. “We won’t go far.”
“All right. Would you like me to put your hair up into a ponytail before you go?”
“Would you?” Jessica’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve got a rubber band but I kind of get it tangled up when I try to do it.”
“Oh, dear.” Laura took the rubber band from the girl, a plain one that looked as if it had come off a copy of the Rawhide Review. “This really isn’t the best kind to use,” she explained, carefully slipping it around the handful of hair at the back of Jessica’s head. “I’ll pick up the kind you need next
