before with the news that they would tie the knot on the Saturday before Christmas. “I keep wondering what’s really going on with them, you know?”
So, then. It looked as if she’d finished with the sulking. About time. He hid his grin of satisfaction. And then he thought about Clara and Ryan and he was frowning, too. “Yeah. Rye’s been pretty cagey about the whole thing.” Walker’s brother had been claiming he was in love with Clara since high school. And Rye had proposed more than once in the past nine or ten years. Clara kept turning him down, saying how she loved him and always would, but not in that way.
“What changed all of a sudden?” Rory asked, her mind evidently moving on the same track as his. “And do you really think Ryan’s ready to settle down?” Rye always claimed he loved Clara, but he hadn’t exactly waited around, pining for a chance with her. He liked women and they liked him. The girlfriends never lasted long—a month, maybe two, and Ryan’s latest ladylove would move on. A few more weeks would go by and he would turn up with someone new on his arm.
Walker said, “I don’t know what changed. And I’m with you. I hope he’s ready.”
“It’s just...not like Clara to suddenly decide Ryan’s the guy for her after all these years of saying he’s not. On the phone, she told me she was wrong before, that she really loves him and she knows they’ll be happy together.”
“She told me the same thing. She said she finally got smart and decided to marry her best friend.”
Rory scrunched up her nose. “Well, I can see that. I guess...” And then she shook her head again. “No. I don’t get it. If I can find the right moment, I’m going to try to talk to her some more, try to find out if she’s sure about this.”
“Better talk fast. It’s two weeks until the wedding.”
She dropped her head back and stared at the headliner. “Ugh. You’re right. I don’t want to make that kind of trouble. Ryan’s always wanted to marry her, so no big surprise there. And Clara’s no flake. She’s strong and steady. If she’s doing this, it must be what she wants.”
They were climbing up into the mountains, the highway twisting through rocky moraine, pine-covered slopes rising to either side. Here and there, wide patches of snow from last week’s storm caught the sunlight and sparkled like sequins on a pretty girl’s white party dress.
“You want to stop at Clara’s?” he asked as they began to descend into the Justice Creek Valley.
“It’s after four.” The sun had already slipped behind the mountains. “It’ll be dark soon. Let’s just go on to the ranch. I’ll see her in the morning.”
* * *
Rory admired the view as they approached the Bar-N.
Nestled in its own beautiful, rolling valley with mountains all around, the Bar-N had been a working cattle ranch for five generations. The N stood for Noonan, which was Walker’s mother’s maiden name. The place had come down to Walker and Ryan from their mother, Darla, and their uncle, John Noonan. Four years ago, Ryan had sold his interest to Walker and moved into town.
Walker still kept a few horses, but the cattle were long gone. Nowadays, the Bar-N was a guest ranch. The homestead, in the center of the pretty little valley, contained a circle of well-maintained structures. Over the past couple of decades, Walker and his uncle before him had built five cozy cabins. There were also four full-size houses. The houses, constructed over the generations, had once served as homes for various members of the Noonan clan. Walker offered two of the houses, the cabins and the fully outfitted bunkhouse as vacation rentals.
Of weathered wood and natural stone, the main house had a wide front porch. Walker’s German shorthaired pointer, Lonesome, and his black cat, Lucky Lady, were waiting for them when they arrived.
Rory laughed just at the sight of them. They were so cute, sitting patiently at the top of the steps, side by side. When Walker got out, the dog came running and the big black cat followed at a more sedate pace. He greeted them both with a gentle word and a quick touch of his hand. Then he started unloading her things.
Rory grabbed her tote and went to help, taking a suitcase in her free hand and following him into the house and up the stairs. He led her to a room in front. She hesitated on the threshold.
He set down the suitcases on the rag rug and turned to her. Rory met his eyes—and felt suddenly awkward and completely tongue-tied. Bizarre. She was never tongue-tied.
“There are hangers in the closet and I emptied out the bureau,” he said. “I’ll just get that last big bag for you.” He eased around her and headed back toward the stairs again.
Once he was out of sight, Rory entered the room that would be hers for the next two weeks. It had a big window on the front-facing wall and a smaller one on the side wall. There was a nice, queen-size bed with a patchwork quilt, a heavy bureau of dark wood, a small closet and a bathroom.
The bathroom had two doors.
She opened the outer door and found herself staring across a short section of hallway into another bedroom, a small one with a bow window overlooking the backyard. Not Walker’s room, she was reasonably sure.
Curiosity had its hooks in her. She zipped across the hall to have a quick look around that other room.
Definitely not Walker’s. Walker liked things simple and spare—but this room was too spare, too tidy. Not a single item on the dresser or the nightstand that could be called personal.
She went back to the bathroom and stood frowning at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. Seven years of knowing Walker and this was the first time she’d been upstairs in his house. She wondered if this might be the only upstairs bath.
Would she and Walker be sharing? That could get awkward—well, for her, anyway. If Walker saw her naked, he’d probably just pat her on the head and tell her to get dressed before she caught a chill.
The front door opened downstairs. Rory shut the outer door, ducked back into her bedroom and got busy putting her things away.
Walker appeared in the doorway to the hall. “Alva left dinner, so that’s handled.” The Colgins, Alva and her husband, Bud, helped out around the ranch and lived in the house directly across the front yard from Walker’s. He rolled in the last bag. “Where do you want this?”
“Just leave it—anywhere’s fine.” Was she blushing? Her face felt a little too warm. Would he guess that she’d been snooping?
If he guessed, he didn’t call her on it. “Hungry?”
“Starved. I’ll finish unpacking and be right down.”
He left and Rory continued putting stuff in drawers—until she heard his boots moving across the floor below. Then she shut the door to the hallway and zipped back into the bathroom.
She opened the medicine cabinet and the cabinet under the sink. There were the usual towels and washcloths. Also, bandage strips and a tube of antibacterial ointment, a bottle of aspirin long past its use-by date and a half-empty box of tampons.
Tampons left there by a girlfriend?
Walker with a girlfriend...
He
