told himself about why he had done what he’d done. But deep in his soul, he knew that there was only one real reason he was doing this.
Because he wanted to.
* * *
Rather than embracing the cause that was so close to her heart, after a beat, to her dismay, Julia found herself embracing him instead. Found herself weaving her arms around Liam’s neck as best she could, raising herself up on her tiptoes so that she could lean her body into his.
She had to have lost her mind; there was no other explanation for behaving this way.
Yet, as upset as doing this made her, Julia just could not make herself pull back or break away from Liam and his lethal lips.
Not even the tiniest bit.
Not when the very blood in her veins was rising to an alarming temperature and the room was spinning around her faster than Dorothy’s house when it was snatched up by the twister that had sent it whisking off to Oz.
Julia realized that her heart rate had quickened to the point of doubling and the very air seemed to have disappeared right out of her lungs.
Heaven knew that she’d been kissed before, more times than she could possibly count. And of course she’d made love before, as well, but this... This was some kind of new, crazy sensation that she had never, ever encountered before and although she knew, knew in her heart, that whatever this was, was bad for her, she just couldn’t make herself pull away and stop.
Not yet.
A few seconds from now, yes, but not yet.
* * *
Liam was completely convinced that he had succeeded in utterly losing his mind. There was no other reason for what was going on.
He wasn’t that eighteen-year-old hotshot that he had once been anymore, wasn’t that cocky high school senior who reveled in the adulation he saw in every single high school girl’s eyes when she looked at him.
Back then, he’d thrived on those looks and those girls.
But right now he would have been hard-pressed to remember any of their names. They all seemed like just so many interchangeable entities, feeding his fragile young ego and providing a release for all those wild, raging hormones that plagued so many boys at that age.
He’d eventually outgrown that stage, settled down in his thinking and while he did enjoy female companionship with a fair amount of regularity, he wasn’t looking for anything permanent because he wasn’t interested in settling down with any one woman.
Settling.
There wasn’t really a single girl he’d gone out with, a single girl or woman in Horseback Hollow who turned up in his dreams at night, who gave him a reason to whistle tunelessly to himself as he looked forward to Saturday-night outings.
But this, whatever this was, was different. Different enough to put a fire in his belly and make him suddenly feel alive.
Finally pulling back—because Liam was afraid that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to surface ever again—he looked at the woman who had just shaken up the foundations of his well-ordered world. Looked at her for a long, hard moment.
And when he spoke, the words could definitely not be viewed as romantic in any manner, shape or form.
“What the hell was that?” He wanted to know.
“I have no idea,” Julia answered hoarsely, trying desperately to look angry, to feel angry, and completely unable to manage to do either. “But don’t ever do it again.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Liam replied in a voice that was just as hoarse as hers, a fact that really annoyed him no end.
He said it because, at the time, he meant it.
Or at least he thought he did.
Chapter Four
Harlan Osgood wore not one but two hats in his everyday life.
First and foremost, like his father before him, Harlan was the town barber. He owned and ran The Cuttery, Horseback Hollow’s only barbershop. Eventually he’d expanded the shop to include a hair salon, as well, for those ladies who were brave enough to cross the threshold and place the fate of their flowing tresses in Harlan’s hands.
Almost everyone in town sat in one of his chairs at one time or another, most on a fairly regular basis. Interacting with these town residents gave Harlan some insight into the way the locals felt about all sorts of matters that concerned them. He was a good listener, always had been, and that, in turn, helped him make some of the decisions he needed to make when he donned his other hat, the one that figuratively belonged to the town mayor.
All things considered, the latter was almost an honorary position. For one thing, there was next to no monetary compensation for the job. Being elected mayor by the good people of Horseback Hollow fed his self-esteem rather than helped him put food on the table. That was what running the Cuttery was for.
Harlan had always been considered a decent, fair man by his friends and neighbors. He wasn’t one to impose his will over the objection of others, didn’t look for ways—devious or otherwise—to line his pockets or the pockets of his friends at the town’s expense. What had put Harlan in office and kept him there election after election was his honest belief that in a town as small as Horseback Hollow, that everyone’s voice really counted and was equal to everyone else’s.
The way he saw it, one person was no better, no worse than another, and that included him.
Harlan first heard the rumor about the possibility of a new restaurant—funded by some of the Fortunes of Red Rock—coming here to Horseback Hollow the way he heard about almost everything else that came to his attention: from one of the customers sitting in his barber’s chair.
In less than forty-eight hours, what began as a vague rumor quickly became the topic that was on everyone’s lips. No matter who was doing the talking, it seemed that everyone, young or old, had an opinion on the subject of this new restaurant that might be coming.
Some spoke with feelings and passion about this restaurant that had yet to materialize. Others chose to feel him out first before stating how they felt on the matter.
“What do you think about that new place that’s coming to Horseback?” Riley Johnson, one of his most regular customers, asked him.
The rancher, lean and rangy of build, came in for a haircut like clockwork every two weeks despite the fact that he had very little hair to speak of these days. He came, Harlan suspected, for the company and a chance for some male interaction. Riley owned a fairly small spread as far as ranches in the area went and he and his wife had been blessed with all girls. Riley spent most of his days feeling outnumbered.
The barbershop was a place to regroup.
Riley twisted around in his chair to look at the man he’d known going on five decades, waiting for the latter to answer.
“Well, it’s not a done deal just yet, Riley,” Harlan pointed out as he made rhythmic cuts to the hair that was there.
