I’m making progress with him.”
Grady had never heard anyone refer to a cat as a tuxedo but it was a great description. The white patch on Fred’s chest made him look as if he’d dressed for the Oscars.
All the cats went back to eating except Fred. Hunkered down, eyes wide and pupils dilated, he stared at Grady. His whiskers, white to match his chest, trembled.
“He won’t hurt you, sweetie.” Sapphire’s voice dripped honey as she spoke to the cat. “The food’s yum-yum-yummy, kitty-cat. You know you want some. Come on, come and get it.”
Her words seemed to have no effect on Fred but they were having a definite effect on Grady. After three weeks of erotic dreams featuring her in the lead role, he was a hot mess of raging hormones. Listening to her woo the cat was initiating action below his belt. She’d told him to stay put but that could prove embarrassing if she kept up this seductive murmur. Sure, she was addressing a cat, but he had no trouble imagining her using that same tone during sex. The longer he stood there, the larger his problem grew, so to speak.
He couldn’t very well tell her that. “Maybe I should move so Fred can’t see me.” He hoped she hadn’t heard the telltale huskiness in his voice.
“That might help.” Fortunately, she didn’t glance over at him. “I’ll be finished in a few minutes.”
“I’ll meet you out front.” He began a slow retreat, wincing at the pressure of his zipper against his pride and joy.
“Okay.” She went back to sweet-talking Fred.
He did his best to block the sound as he ducked out of sight and made the painful journey to his truck. Bracing both hands on the hood, he took several deep breaths. Anyone would think he was some horny teenager.
Normally, he didn’t have this issue. He thought back to the last woman he’d dated and was shocked to realize they’d broken up more than a year ago. Time flew when you were making art. She’d never understood his preoccupation with his work and they’d fought about it enough times that they’d decided to call it quits last July.
Okay, so he hadn’t been in bed with a woman for a long time and now he’d found someone so hot that he’d fixated on her for weeks. That could explain his sudden stiffy. He felt a little better about his reaction, although he’d have to watch himself to make sure he didn’t come across as sex starved.
Turning around, he leaned his butt against the truck and adjusted himself. Better now. He repositioned his new Stetson so it sat more firmly on his head. Liam had talked him into buying it to fit his image as a celebrated Western artist and it was the most expensive one he’d ever owned—black with a silver-and-turquoise hatband. Naturally, Liam had insisted such a hat deserved a new pair of boots, also black, with fancy stitching. Grady had worn them to make a good impression but he’d brought his old scuffed ones to work in.
He had two projects in mind. First he would put together a nice sculpture for his foster mom, Rosie Padgett. She and his foster dad, Herb, had welcomed Grady and Liam to Thunder Mountain Ranch ten years ago when their mom’s car accident had left her unable to care for a couple of rowdy teens. Last month Rosie had hinted to Liam that she’d love a sculpture, and Grady had come up with a great idea for the design.
Creating Rosie’s gift would help him settle into the workspace, so he’d be ready to put on a performance for the charity night. He’d come up with a sketch for that one, too, and it was a piece he could finish within the three hours allotted to the event. Sapphire planned to have a silent auction for his contribution and she hoped to raise a lot of money.
He really should find out what the charity was. His sculpture should relate to the cause in some way, and just because he liked the cougar he’d sketched, didn’t mean it would work with the evening’s theme. He’d ask Sapphire about that when she finished feeding the stray cats. It was possible she’d told him and the information hadn’t registered, because he’d been so focused on her.
Nudging his hat back with his thumb, he gazed up as the first stars blinked on. They weren’t as bright in town as they were out at the ranch. Much as he’d love to stay with his foster parents during his time in Sheridan, it wasn’t practical.
Thunder Mountain Academy, a new venture that involved teaching high school kids about everything related to horses, was in its last week of the summer session. The cabins that had once housed foster boys were now filled with teens enrolled in the program. Grady would only be in the way, so he’d accepted an offer to stay in town with Ben and Molly Radcliffe.
Ben had made saddles for just about everyone Grady knew in Sheridan, including his foster parents. Molly was Cade Gallagher’s cousin, although Grady hadn’t quite worked out the details of that connection. It had something to do with the well-known Chance brothers in Jackson Hole. In any case, Molly and Ben were part of the Thunder Mountain Ranch extended family and they were happy to let him use their guest room.
He’d warned them he didn’t know when he’d show up. Unloading his equipment and materials had to come first. At least, that was how he’d rationalized stopping at the Art Barn to meet with Sapphire. Technically, he could have driven over to Molly and Ben’s tonight and brought his supplies here in the morning.
Yet when he’d suggested stopping by tonight to drop them off, Sapphire had readily agreed. Her eagerness had fired up his imagination, and discovering that she was here alone added to the anticipation. He wondered if she’d had dinner. He ran through the restaurant options and decided to suggest his favorite bar because it had live music and a dance floor.
“That takes care of that.” Sapphire rounded the corner of the barn holding a stack of bowls. “I thought I’d be done before you got here.”
He pushed himself away from the truck and walked toward her. “No worries. Do you feed them every night?” She looked even prettier than he remembered—wavy auburn hair pulled back on one side with an elaborate silver comb, exotic earrings that dangled to her shoulders, a low-cut peasant blouse and a brightly patterned skirt that reminded him of gypsies.
“We feed them every night and every morning. We rotate weeks and this happens to be mine.” She tipped her head toward the double doors at the entrance. “Come on in. I need to wash these and then I’ll help you unload your equipment.”
“Thanks. That would be great.” He caught the spicy scent of her perfume, the same one she’d worn when they’d met three weeks ago. He breathed it in and all his hopes and dreams came flooding back. “So everyone pitches in to feed the strays?” He wondered if she liked to dance. Even if she wasn’t much for dancing, they could get out on the floor and do the shuffle-and-sway routine to a slow tune so he could hold her.
“They’re not exactly strays. Can you please catch the door for me?”
“Sure thing.” He hurried to do it, berating himself as he slid the barn door open. He’d been so busy making plans for tonight that he’d forgotten his manners.
“You can check out the new pieces on display while I wash these.”
“You have a sink?”
“During the renovation we put in a small bathroom and a tiny kitchen.” She gestured toward the row of stalls. “Go ahead and look around. I left on the lights so you could see the new stuff. Everyone’s getting ready for the big weekend. Lots of good work.”
“Sounds great, but I’d be glad to help you
