boot heel with a muttered oath and stomped back down the steps, irritated but undaunted.
Ultimately he’d get what he wanted. When it came to the ranch he usually did. He rarely misjudged an opponent. The little blonde with the big brown eyes might have distracted him temporarily, but she was no match for Winchester determination.
Halfway to his truck, Adam glanced over his shoulder in time to see the front curtain drop back into place. “I’ll be back,” he muttered as he settled his Resistol more firmly on his head. “We’re not done yet.”
Plastered against the wall next to the window where she’d ducked to avoid being caught gaping, Emily pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress a groan of embarrassment. What on God’s green earth had possessed her to jump to the narcissistic conclusion that Adam Winchester had tracked her down because he’d been dazzled by her feminine charms—and why had she humiliated herself further by telling him?
What must he be thinking? Thanks to her impetuousness, he’d have an amusing story to tell his cronies around the campfire, or wherever cowboys hung out these days. Perhaps it was the rustic saloon she and David had driven by on their arrival. The only thing that could have increased her embarrassment even more would have been for Winchester to catch her watching his departure with her nose pressed to the window.
Good thing that when it came to men with sexy eyes, a killer smile and great buns, Emily was immune—totally, terminally uninterested, especially when the man was also insufferably arrogant, assuming he could waltz in here and demand that she hand over to him this place she already loved.
If her little section of Colorado was so crucial to her neighbor’s operation, why hadn’t Mr. Johnson sold it to him instead of going to all the trouble of advertising out of state? When she’d bought the land, she’d had no idea anyone else would be interested, but it was obvious now that Adam Winchester would have paid more than she had.
Before accepting Emily’s offer, Mr. Johnson had insisted that she make him an unusual promise. He hadn’t given her an explanation for his request, and she’d been reluctant to pry, but after Adam Winchester’s visit today she was certainly curious. She doubted the promise was legally binding, but that didn’t matter. When she gave her word, she tried her best to keep it.
The whine of David’s motorbike cut through her thoughts like a chainsaw through butter. She opened the door as he pulled up beside the porch in a cloud of dust and killed the engine.
“How was school?” she asked when he’d removed his helmet.
David swung one long leg over the bike. He came up the steps without meeting her gaze, the helmet tucked under his arm. “It was okay,” he said in a flat voice as he brushed past her.
One of the reasons she’d agreed to let him ride his bike instead of catching the bus was that she’d hoped he’d get involved in some after-school activities. Unfortunately, nothing about the new school seemed to interest him so far, not the kids, his new classes or anything else.
“Do you want a snack?” she asked as she trailed after him into the house. Over the last few days, she’d managed to unpack most of their belongings and make the living room presentable, but she had no idea whether her son had even noticed her efforts.
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry,” he muttered. Before she could say anything else, he’d gone into his room and shut the door.
A teenage boy with no appetite? Something was seriously wrong. Emily sank onto the leather couch she’d brought from L.A. and stared at the opposite wall, which was blank. The house in Brentwood had been decorated by a big name interior designer Stuart had hired, but Emily planned to fix this one up herself. She’d hoped to enlist David’s help, but unless his attitude changed drastically, she couldn’t imagine him taking the slightest interest in picking out pictures and bric-a-brac.
She hadn’t done anything more about getting a dog, but she wanted to find one before she bought any livestock. She’d need a cat, too, once the remodeling in her workshop was completed. The contractor had promised to send a man out to repair the corral fencing next week. Fortunately, the small stable was sound. It would make a perfect home for the horses she planned to buy.
Emily hadn’t always been a city slicker. Growing up near Sacramento, she’d spent as much time as possible on horseback. Over the years she’d continued to ride on occasion. Stuart had never shared her interest—had even seemed to resent it—but she’d taught David to ride. His enthusiasm had waned in the past couple of years, but she hoped having horses of their own would revitalize it. He had to do something besides e-mailing his friends back home.
Meanwhile she removed the chicken from the refrigerator in order to fix his favorite dinner. It was nearly ready when he finally emerged from his room.
“Sweetie, would you set the table?” she asked as she mashed the potatoes.
Silently he complied, while Emily mounded the fluffy spuds into a bowl and fished around for something to talk about.
“Who was that guy I saw leaving right before I got home?” he asked, sparing her the trouble. “The one in the big black truck.”
As if they had so many visitors that he needed to be specific. “That was our neighbor, Adam Winchester,” she replied as she dished up some peas. “He made me an offer for this place.” As soon as the words were out, she wished she could recall them.
David froze in the middle of setting out flatware. “What did you tell him?” His hopeful tone made Emily wince.
She sighed. “We’re not selling.”
“Why not?” David demanded, his voice rising. “If you got your money back, we could go home where we belong.”
“We just got here,” Emily told him. “Won’t you please give Colorado a chance? Neither one of us belongs in L.A. any longer.”
He glowered at her, his knuckles white as he gripped the back of the chair. “I hate it here. The kids are all hayseeds, and they stare at me like I came from Pluto.”
Emily ached to see him so miserable. “What about that girl you met?” she asked. “Have you talked to her again?” She still hoped a few of the other students would be friendly enough or curious enough to make the first move.
He jammed his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans, his shoulders hunching over. “She’s busy with her own friends.”
“What about the boys?” Emily persisted. “This is a small town, and it’s not every day someone comes here from another state. They must have noticed you.”
“Like I care,” he said with a defensive sneer. “I have plenty of friends.”
And a few enemies, too, Emily thought grimly, but she didn’t voice her thoughts. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold,” she suggested as she set the plate of chicken and the bowl of mashed potatoes on the table.
David poured milk for both of them. “Why can’t we just go home?” he whined, after they’d helped themselves and started eating.
Emily gave him a long look. “You know why.”
His cheeks turned red, and his mouth took on a sulky droop. “Aw, Mom. You just overreacted,” he said. “Nothing really happened.”
She
