Christie Ridgway, Page 2

  Out of sorts? Lost? Frustration, embarrassment, and exasperation roiled in his belly. Did he really seem so doleful? “Brenda—”

  “Maybe if I fixed you up with someone,” she continued, in a voice soft with compassion. “There’s a woman in my photography class who has a daughter…”

  That was it. It. He drew the line when sympathy turned to talk of fix-ups. To escape a renewed urge to knock something over, Zane managed to force out some non-committal noise and shoved open the door.

  Apparently energized by the fresh air and his owner’s distraction, Gambler took a sudden leap, the leash yanking from Zane’s loosened hold. The dog took off, splashing through the rain puddles in the parking area in the direction of the front entrance. Zane followed, cursing the animal, himself, and the whole world.

  Maybe he did deserve to be pitied.

  Then, in horror, he watched as Gambler did exactly what his master had been itching to do. The dog knocked something over.

  Someone.

  And the person who truly warranted a hefty dose of pity was a delicate-looking woman with dark blonde hair who now lay flat on her back on the sidewalk, books, purse, and various personal belongings scattered around her.

  Harper Grace stared up at the blue sky, her heart in her throat, her breath backed up in her lungs. There was a ringing in her ears. What just happened?

  Then a slavering monster entered her field of vision, hairy and toothy and totally terrifying. She choked out a sound and tried scrambling backward, using her heels and her shoulders. Sitting up would only put her closer to the beast.

  The sound of a deep voice penetrated her hearing. “Gambler! For God’s sake! Gambler!” The furry thing was hauled back to be replaced by something even bigger who now took his own turn to stare down at her from the most startling aquamarine-colored eyes she’d ever seen.

  “Are you all right, miss?” the creature asked, a man creature, obviously, in a denim work shirt and jeans.

  Some instinct caused her to make another feeble attempt at a rear scramble.

  He frowned. “Do you need medical assistance?”

  Her head was dizzy and her mouth was dry but her limbs appeared to be working and nothing seemed to be broken on the inside either. At the sound of an insistent jingle, she glanced over and saw the original monster sitting on its haunches, looking at her like she might be raw meat.

  She swallowed. “You have a good grip on that…that thing?” she asked, noting the leash in the big man’s hand was connected to a collar of thick metal links around the beast’s neck.

  “He’s Gambler,” the man replied. “My ill-mannered dog. And we’re both very sorry he toppled you.”

  Her side-eye glance at the canine didn’t convince her he felt the least bit apologetic. Not with his pink tongue hanging out like that.

  “Damn.” The man’s eyes narrowed, and he hunkered down, his long legs folding in half. “You’re really scared.”

  “No.” She denied the charge as she took in his tree trunk-sized thighs. “I was just…startled.”

  Not scared. Because she’d moved to Eagle’s Ridge to be someone different. To try different things. To shed the “boring” that her ex said he’d tired of. The Harper Grace who’d been nervous around big dogs and reluctant to experience a bunch of other things had been left behind in San Francisco.

  “Let me help you up,” the man said, holding out his free hand. His palm looked to be as big as a dinner plate.

  “I can do it.” Half-rolling, she got to her knees and then to her feet. Still with one cautious eye on the dog, she tugged at the hem of her long black cardigan, brushed at the leaves clinging to her black pants, then paused, noting the two massive dirty paw prints on her formerly pristine white shirt.

  “You can send me the cleaning bill for your clothes,” Gambler’s owner said.

  “Nonsense.” Harper was proud of the brisk tone of her voice. “It’s nothing a little laundry detergent can’t handle.” But she’d have to return to her condo for different clothes before visiting any more of the Eagle’s Ridge businesses. If she was going to ask to leave flyers and post notices about her upcoming charity event to benefit the library, she figured the new librarian should appear tidy and clean.

  The man stretched out a long arm and snagged her fallen purse. The contents had spilled out on the sidewalk and he plucked up those too, tossing pen, pencil, wallet, and ChapStick inside. Then he straightened to his full height and handed over the black leather bag.

  “Thank you.” She settled the strap on her shoulder and then reached for the plastic portfolio he held out next. It had come from the copy shop just that morning and she was glad that the papers inside hadn’t been scattered. With the cement still damp from an earlier rain, she’d have had a sodden mess on her hands.

  “I’m really sorry,” the man said again, and turned to glare at the dog. “We plan to take obedience classes as soon as he overcomes some of his fears. Right now I think it would put too much stress on him.”

  Curiosity got the better of her. “He has…fears?” And suffered from stress? The dog looked big enough to intimidate anyone and anything.

  Gambler’s owner nodded, his expression serious. “Skateboards. Doorbells. Bubble wrap. Don’t get me started on frogs.”

  A gurgle of laughter worked its way up Harper’s throat. “Bubble wrap? Frogs?” She shifted her gaze to the dog again, and suddenly he seemed much less menacing. “Poor guy.”

  “You say that because you’ve forgotten the mud he’s transferred to your clothes.” Then the man’s gaze snagged on something nearby and he brightened. “Hey, maybe this will help.” Bending again, he scooped up a last refugee from her purse, an instant stain remover stick that she never left home without.

  Popping off the top, he took a step forward. “Hold still and I’ll…” He froze, his hand hovering a few inches from the smears of dirt on her shirt.

  Harper glanced down, saw that a couple of buttons had unfastened, and now the fabric gaped over her breasts, exposing the top inches encased in a pale pink lace bra. “Oh!” Heat rushed from the edge of the intimate garment to the top of her head.

  Harper Grace didn’t flash strange men in the street!

  Her hand flew to the placket, just as a truck pulled up alongside them. The passenger window rolled down, revealing a familiar female face. Not long ago the woman had come to the library and introduced herself as Jadyn McAllister, an assumed name she’d used because of her unwitting mix-up in a revenge plot on a drug lord. Once the dangerous mess had cleared, she’d returned to the library and explained she was really Jane McAllen.

  “Hey, Harper!” she called now. “Is everything okay?”

  It would be, as long as no one noticed her fumbling with her shirt buttons and didn’t guess she’d been standing partially disrobed on the streets of Eagle’s Ridge. “Just fine. How are you?”

  The other woman popped her door and then climbed out of the vehicle, just as a man emerged from the driver’s side. Harper recognized those blue eyes, the exact same, startling shade as those of Gambler’s owner.

  He was big like him too, though maybe a bit shorter and leaner, and with similar bone structure to his handsome face.

  Because yes, the dog’s owner was very handsome, in a very virile, very rugged kind of way. Both men had the kind of masculine good looks that had always unsettled Harper.

  “Have you met Adam Tucker?” Jane was asking now, slipping her hand into the crook of the newcomer’s elbow.

  Children of the mansions in Nob Hill had manners instilled in them at the cradle. Ignoring her usual twinge of stranger-shyness, she held out her hand. “Harper Grace, new county librarian.”

  His fingers closed over hers for a brief shake, and then he glanced over at the other man. “I’m guessing you’ve met my twin.”

  Ah. That explained the resemblance. “No, not really. We just now—”

  “Gambler took her out like a bowling pin,” Adam’s brother said, grimaci
ng. “We didn’t get to introductions yet.”

  Jane shook her head. “Oh, my. Are you all right, Harper?”

  “Just embarrassed.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t be,” Jane said. “Zane should have better control of him.”

  Harper glanced over at the dog’s owner. “Zane.” Then back at the woman. “Jane.”

  “I keep telling her she picked the wrong twin,” the taller man said with a smile. He had very nice, very white teeth. “What couldn’t a power couple named Zane and Jane achieve?”

  “More like Tarzan and Jane,” his brother muttered, then hitched his lady closer to him.

  Harper liked the way Jane leaned into Adam’s body in return, trusting and warm, as if she knew she could count on him. As if she knew that he wouldn’t be the kind of man to break a two-year engagement on the day she booked the wedding chapel.

  She also liked the teasing byplay between the brothers. Her only sibling was a thrill-seeking older sister and though she hadn’t been around males much growing up or as an adult, she recognized the approving expression on Zane’s face as he watched his brother hug Jane.

  “I should get going,” Harper ventured now, recalling her need to return home for a clean outfit.

  “Or come in the diner and join us for a late breakfast or an early lunch,” Jane said, gesturing to the front door.

  “Oh, I couldn’t. Not with soiled clothes.”

  “Dad won’t mind,” Adam put in. “He owns No Man’s Land—the diner—by the way. Sam Tucker.”

  “I was going to ask him if I could put a poster about the library charity event in the front window,” Harper confessed. “But I’ll come back later.”

  “Give it to us,” Jane said. “We’ll take care of it.”

  Pleased, Harper began to open the flap on the portfolio. “That would be great.” She withdrew one of the 11 x 13-inch tagboard notices. Then Zane was there taking it from her hand.

  His eyebrows rose as he read aloud the bold-faced heading. “Get Dirty for Books.”

  She ignored the ridiculous heat rising on her face. “It was my predecessor’s idea. She had most of the logistics in place before her husband was quickly deployed and they had to move across the country. It’s a charity mud run. The proceeds will go toward new books.”

  A grin broke over the big man’s face. “I like that. Get dirty.” He glanced from the poster to Harper. “Are you going to participate?”

  She lifted her chin, not even thinking before she replied, “Of course.”

  Now why the heck had she said that? she wondered, wanting to slap the heel of her hand to her forehead. She’d had no intention of actually participating in the event, especially as her exercise of choice in San Francisco had been nothing more vigorous than the spin class described as a “beach cruise.”

  It was Zane Tucker’s fault.

  He was too handsome and too virile—that must be it.

  A guy that good-looking touched a deep, feminine part of her. It would be the same for any woman, she told herself. Looking into those fascinating eyes could compel a female to want unwise things. To make crazy claims. To participate in mud runs!

  Still, how could she have actually said so?

  Yes, Harper wanted to be different, but not that different.

  “Really?” the man said now, his gaze sweeping over her body as if assessing her readiness. No doubt he could tell that the only truly fit muscles in her body were the ones used to lift books and turn pages. He looked down at the poster he still held and then back at her face. “You’re going to run through four miles of mud and obstacles?”

  She felt her chin lift again. “Yes.” Oh, God. Oh, God. Who had taken over her voice? But with Zane, his brother, Jane, and that dog all looking on, Harper found she couldn’t renege now. With a vigorous nod, she doubled-down. “I’m sure I’ll find it great fun.”

  Before she could promise she’d be climbing Everest next, she tucked her purse closer to her body. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  Goodbyes were quickly said and Jane took the poster, promising to personally ensure it had prominent placement in the diner. Then, with a last wave, Harper headed in the direction of her small condo complex.

  Only to find herself accompanied by Zane and the dog.

  “Oh,” she said, feeling the pinch of a slight frown between her brows. “Are you going in this direction too?”

  “I was planning on it. I take Gambler on walks around town so he can experience different sights and sounds. I’m hoping to desensitize him to his fears.”

  The dog didn’t look that anxious to her at the moment, trotting along with his tongue hanging out, but what did she know?

  “We can walk behind you if that would make you more comfortable,” Zane offered.

  “I don’t think I want Gambler where I can’t see him.”

  The man gave another of his grins and she looked away in case it caused blindness. “How did the dog get to be so fearful anyway?” she asked.

  “I don’t really know. A guy came through town, part of a group of hunters that we get up here. One night at a local bar, he was complaining that the Lab he bought as a hunting dog was no good. He was thinking of dropping it off at an animal shelter on his way back home to Colorado.”

  “Oh.” Harper sent a sympathetic glance to the dog, who was lifting his leg and peeing on a bush, apparently unaware of his close call. “Poor boy.”

  “I was actually concerned that what the man really intended to do was leave the dog behind at their campsite.”

  Harper swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “That’s horrible.”

  “It happens.” Zane’s mouth flattened. “So I offered to take him off his hands, but the minute I expressed an interest, Mr. Shoot ‘Em Up wanted me to pay him three thousand dollars.”

  “For a dog he was intending to get rid of one way or another?” Harper frowned. “Did you pay?”

  “I enticed him into a bet. If I could get the phone number of a woman in the bar—any woman of his choosing—in less than thirty seconds, then the dog was mine for free. If she refused, then I’d pay him the asking price—”

  “And still get the dog.”

  He smiled. “And still get the dog.”

  When he didn’t continue, she sent him a pointed look. “Well? Obviously I know you got Gambler, but how?”

  “Mr. Heartless-and-Smug pointed to a very beautiful woman a few tables over, dressed in stylish city clothes and wearing high-heeled boots that probably cost as much as he wanted to charge me for the animal. Likely the hunter supposed the sophisticated lady would never respond to a come-on from an oversized mountain bumpkin like me.”

  “But she did,” Harper said, certain.

  The slyest of grins broke over Zane’s face. “Lady Luck was looking out for me that night. The woman in question—an attorney on a visit from LA—just happened to be my high school prom date.”

  Delighted, she laughed. Then looking around, realized they’d reached the pathway leading to her complex. She halted.

  “Congratulations on your good fortune,” she told Zane, “though I’m sure any woman in the room would have been just as eager to hand over her contact info—former prom date or no.”

  “Yeah?” Zane angled his head and the sunlight that took that moment to break through the clouds seemed to catch in his bright, blue-green eyes. “How about you?”

  Instantly flustered, Harper hugged her plastic portfolio to her chest. “Men don’t customarily ask for my number.”

  “Is that right?” He didn’t look away from her face. “Well, you’re in Eagle’s Ridge now, where men have eyes and brains—so expect that to change.”

  The comment left her speechless. For a moment she just stood in dumbfounded silence, but then manners came to her rescue and she stretched out her hand. “I’ve got to go. Goodbye, Zane Tucker.”

  “Goodbye, Harper Grace.” His big hand enfolded hers.

  Sensation shimmied up her arm, a prickly heat
that burst across her skin. Her nerve endings danced beneath the surface and she felt as if she’d been tumbled once more, except she was still on her feet.

  And Zane’s hand continued to hold hers.

  Under the influence of that firm clasp, the sky was brighter and the sun was warmer and the trees were taller than any she’d ever seen before in her life.

  It was like a new world.

  Her pulse started racing.

  “You’re in Eagle’s Ridge now,” Zane repeated, a low murmur.

  Eagle’s Ridge, where he’d said she should expect things to change.

  But this didn’t feel like simple change to her, she thought, as worry chased a shiver running down her spine. This felt like a sudden, brilliant, not-just-a-little-bit scary revolution, and Harper was worried that even a woman determined to make over her life wouldn’t be able to handle it.

  Chapter 2

  Strolling into No Man’s Land, Zane saw Wyatt seated at the counter and took the stool beside him. The other man grunted in greeting, without taking his gaze off the fragrant bowl of chili placed in front of him.

  “Long day?” Zane inquired, gesturing to the waitress to bring him his own helping of beans and beef. “I spent the morning teaching a kayaking class that we’re offering through the community college, the lunch hour sending emails confirming reservations that came through our website, and this afternoon Adam and I each led a raft of kids from a charter school in Utah through our easiest rapids.”

  He was pleasantly tired and more than happy about how the high season for the business was shaping up. His adventure watersports company, an idea he’d hit upon after getting out of the service and spending hours rehabbing his damaged shoulder with an oar on the water, had started small but had grown exponentially when Adam joined him two years earlier.

  Zane glanced over at the man on the neighboring stool who continued to methodically spoon food into his mouth. “What about you, Wyatt?”

  “I drove Gran to the grocery store,” Wyatt said, his glum tone signaling he’d found it less than fulfilling.

  A bowl and paper-wrapped utensils were set in front of Zane. “You need to start hitting the gym, man.”