would have been slow-smoking all day long. The picnic in the park would go on for the rest of the day and into the night.
At Cedar Street she turned left. A minute later, she was pulling into the parking lot behind a ramshackle four-story Victorian—her grandmother’s boardinghouse. Strickland’s Boarding House was purple, or it used to be years ago. The color had slowly faded to lavender gray.
Tessa parked, jumped out and headed for the steps to the back porch, her ridiculous orange stork feet slapping the ground with each step. She didn’t breathe easy until she was inside and on her way up the narrow back stairs.
In her room, she shut and locked the door and wiggled out of the stork suit. She felt sweaty and nervous and completely out of sorts, so she put on her robe, grabbed her toiletries caddy and went down the hall to the bathroom she shared with the tenant in the room next to hers. It was blessedly empty—the whole house felt empty and quiet. Everyone was probably celebrating on Main Street or over at the park.
She took her time, had a nice, soothing shower, slathered herself in lotion afterward and put real care into blowing her unruly curls into smooth, silky waves. She put on makeup, too—which didn’t make a lot of sense if she planned to hide in her room for the rest of the day.
But that was the thing. By the time she got around to applying makeup, an hour had passed since she’d locked eyes with the stranger on Main Street. As the minutes ticked by, her panic and dread had faded down to a faint edginess mixed with a really annoying sense of anticipation.
Come on. He was just a guy—yeah, a really hot guy with beautiful, intense eyes and a mouth made for kissing. But just a guy, nonetheless. It was hardly a crime to be hot and rich and look kissable, now, was it?
She’d overreacted—that was all. And it was silly to let a shared glance with a stranger ruin her holiday. The more she considered the situation, the more determined she became not to run away from this guy.
She was not hiding in her room.
She was taking this out-of-nowhere attraction as a good sign, a sort of reawakening, an indication that she really had recovered—from the awful, depressing way it had ended with Miles and from the loss of the hard-earned, successful life that she’d so cavalierly thrown away to be with him.
Tessa returned to her room and dressed in a white tank that showed a little bit of tummy. She pulled on skinny jeans and her favorite red cowboy boots. She looked good, she thought. Confident. And relaxed.
On the way out the door, she grabbed her Peter Grimm straw cowboy hat with the studs and rhinestones, the leopard-print accents and the crimson cross overlay. The park was half a block from the boardinghouse, so she left her car in the boardinghouse lot and walked.
She was going to have a good time today, damn it. The past didn’t own her. Not anymore.
A single shared glance during the parade didn’t mean a thing. That man was a complete stranger, and he’d probably forgotten all about her by now.
Most likely, she’d never see the guy again.
Tessa left the sidewalk and started across the rough park grass. She strode confidently toward the rows of coolers filled with ice and canned soft drinks.
Halfway there, Ryan Roarke caught her arm. “Tessa. Come on over here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
She turned—and there he was, not twenty feet away under a cottonwood, with Kristen, Kayla and Trey. He stared right at her, a sinful look in those beautiful eyes and a smile playing at the corners of his too-tempting mouth. She half stumbled at the sight of him.
Ryan steadied her. “Whoa. You okay?”
She was. Absolutely. She was meeting Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous, and it would be fine. Because he was not Miles and now was not then. “Whoa is right. I think I stepped in a gopher hole.”
Ryan, who was playful and smooth and a little bit goofy all at the same time, gave her a knowing grin. “Gotta watch out for those.”
“Tell me about it.”
Ryan led her to the group under the cottonwood. She gave Kristen and Trey each a hug and touched Kayla’s arm in greeting.
And then the moment came. He spoke to her. “Hello, Tessa.” She lifted her chin and met those dark eyes—really, he was much too tall. Six-four, at least. Too tall, too hot, too...everything. She felt breathless all over again, felt that hungry shiver slide beneath her skin.
Ryan said, “Tessa, this is Carson Drake. He’s up from LA on business. I’ve known him for years, used to do legal work for him now and then.”
Tessa swallowed her breathlessness and teased, “Are you telling me he’s harmless and I should trust him?”
Ryan hesitated. “Harmless. Hmm. Don’t know if I’d go that far.”
“Don’t listen to him,” the man himself cut in gruffly. Then he stage-whispered to Ryan, “You’re supposed to be on my side, remember?”
“Well, I am on your side, man. I’m just not sure if harmless is the right word for you.”
Kristen moved in close to her husband. She tipped her head up and pressed a kiss to Ryan’s square jaw. “Sweetheart, Tessa’s all grown up. She can handle Carson.”
Tessa made a show of rolling her eyes. “Why am I feeling like I’m being set up here?”
“Because I asked to meet you.” That deep, velvety voice rubbed along her nerve endings like an actual caress. Her stomach hollowed out as she stared into his eyes. The warning bells in her head started ringing again, loud and clear.
She ignored them. They were getting no power over her. It was a beautiful day, and she meant to have fun. She looked straight at Carson again, took the full force of those dark eyes head-on. “So, Carson. What kind of business is it that brings you to Rust Creek Falls?”
Ryan volunteered, “He’s here to try and make a deal with Homer Gilmore.”
She kept looking at Carson. He stared right back at her. “What could Homer possibly have that you would want?”
“I want to talk to him about that famous moonshine of his.”
“You want to buy some moonshine?”
“I want to buy the formula.”
“Had any luck with that?”
“Not a lot. I’ve been here two weeks trying to set up a meeting with the man. It’s not happening—though Homer has called me four times.” Carson’s brow furrowed. “At least, I think it was him. But then, I understand he’s homeless. Does he even have a phone? And how did he get my cell number, anyway? Maybe someone’s just pranking me.” He sent Ryan a suspicious glance.
Ryan put up both hands. “Don’t give me that look. If you’ve been pranked, it wasn’t me.”
Kayla suggested, “Homer always knows more than you’d think. He’s a very
