Christie Ridgway, Page 4

  And a woman newly emerging from her comfort zone wouldn’t be someone he wanted to handle.

  She stared at his big hands now, the broad palms and long fingers leading to brawny, bronzed forearms. He had on jeans and a T-shirt that advertised A To Z Watersports. She’d learned it was a local business owned by him and his twin. They rented kayaks and rafts and paddleboards and also guided tours through the downstream rapids as well as hikes in the local mountains.

  So those rugged shoulders and flexing muscles were earned the hardworking way, as opposed to only lifting shining weights in some mirror-walled gym. She supposed he might do that too, but his big body shouted outdoorsman.

  Now he ambled toward the popular fiction section and she checked out his backside.

  The muscles there must get an effective workout too.

  “What are you doing, Harper?”

  Her mother’s voice startled her out of her trance. She edged the back of her hand over her chin to blot any drool accumulated there and shifted her gaze to the surface of her desk. “I’m not doing my job, Mother. So I better get back to it.”

  The older woman promised to call in the near future and Harper resigned herself to another replay of their conversation. She loved her parents, and it wasn’t their fault that her nature had been shy and retiring from the day she was born, but it made it hard for them to let her go…and to believe that she might change.

  But I am, she thought, getting up from her desk. Starting with not hiding in her office, even though the man currently prowling the shelves made her pulse beat faster and her stomach jitter.

  Wiping her palms along the outside of her dark slacks, she took measured steps in his direction. A few feet away, she halted, staring at the jut of his shoulder blades through the soft cotton of his shirt. Just a glimpse of that was virile enough to make her mouth go dry.

  But there was the rest of him too. All the long bones and tousled hair and…and…maleness that the recently renovated library building, despite is vaulted ceilings and airy expanses, could barely contain.

  Then he pivoted. And pinned her with the otherworldly blue of his eyes.

  Instantly, her nipples tightened as if blasted by cold. But she was hot, suddenly feverish, and despite that she had to pull closer the edges of her black cardigan so he wouldn’t see her reaction to him through her bra and lightweight dark gray sweater.

  That question from the other day popped into her head. Are you asking me out?

  It only served to further fluster her, so she pinned on her best librarian smile—kind but impersonal—the one that said she wouldn’t judge if someone was seeking information on the treatment of venereal diseases or wanted to be shown the way to the library’s collection of same-sex romance novels.

  Librarians were like doctors and lawyers that way. Confidentiality was king.

  “Can I help you find something?” she asked.

  He angled his head, as if she was speaking another language.

  “I’ve not seen you in the library before,” she explained. “Could I point your way to the periodicals? The computers are in the study rooms against the far wall.”

  “I guess I don’t look like the kind of man who reads books.”

  Zane’s tone was as mild as his expression, but Harper heard the words and felt a spear of guilt. God. Talk about judging.

  Her face flushed, she could sense the red color crawling over her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  One massive shoulder shrugged. “No offense taken.”

  “Really,” she said. “I mean it. I should know better, since I’m a librarian. People make assumptions about me all the time.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know, that I likely have fifteen cats. That I speak only in whispers.”

  A little smile played around the corners of his mouth. Lord, but he was handsome.

  “They don’t see the kick-butt mud run girl that you really are?”

  She hid her wince. “Exactly.” How was she ever going to walk back that claim of hers? It wasn’t going to be today, though, when he was looking at her in that way that he had, his gaze so intense it seemed to move the very air between them.

  Trying to ignore it, she glanced around his big body, noting the shelf he’d been perusing as she walked up. “Have you read any Westerns?”

  “When I was a kid I couldn’t get enough of them. Zane Grey. My grandpa Max brought them to me.”

  This time a real smile broke over her face. “Of course! Zane Grey. You’re not related, are you?”

  “Nothing like that. Our mom just got some hair up her ass about using the first and last letters of the alphabet for me and my twin.” He shook his head.

  “But when you went looking for reading material, there he was.”

  “There were a lot of titles written by him and I had a lot of time on my hands.”

  “He was very prolific,” Harper said, recalling what she knew of the author’s life and career. “Though chasing his dreams and his passions caused him to often ignore his family.”

  Zane stilled, his jaw tightening. “Yeah,” he said shortly. “That happens.”

  Detecting a mine field, Harper tried tiptoeing immediately out of it. “Which one of his books was your favorite?”

  That tense jaw eased. “Riders of the Purple Sage. There was a lot I didn’t understand about the politics of the story, but there were horses, cattle rustling, and gun battles. Everything a boy could dream of.”

  “Not to mention revenge and romance,” Harper added.

  “I was twelve. I don’t think I paid too much attention to the romance part,” he said, and grinned.

  That did it. Her knees softened and her nipples tightened again and she felt…draped in his handsomeness, the weight of his amused gaze and that warm smile cozy and delicious.

  Then that grin dropped and his eyes narrowed. “Harper…”

  Was he sensing the way he made her swoon? Was he worried that he was sending the wrong signals or she was mixing them up?

  Are you asking me out?

  He hadn’t answered in the diner, he hadn’t brought up anything remotely about it today.

  Embarrassed, she stepped around him to give her attention to the books on the shelves. “Have you read any of the Longmire mysteries?”

  “I think I’ve seen the TV show a time or two. I didn’t realize there were books.”

  “Yes, by Craig Johnson.” She slid one free and, turning, handed it to him. “This is the first in the series.”

  He took the novel from her but didn’t glance away from her face. “A personal recommendation from the librarian. I feel honored.”

  Maybe he was teasing. There was a light note to his voice. But there was that heaviness blanketing her again, his male regard touching her everywhere. A shiver worked its way down her spine and she had to lick her lips to moisten them.

  Zane’s gaze narrowed again as he followed the movement.

  Are you asking me out?

  Why was that question still in the air? And wait—why couldn’t she turn the tables and ask him out?

  It was a crazy idea…or it was not. Because of course she could do it, a shy woman who was determined to change herself and to try new things, like eat alone at a restaurant and ask a man she felt attracted to out on a date.

  Why not?

  “Harper?” a voice called in a library hush.

  She glanced around, saw that her assistant was gesturing to her, miming someone was on the phone.

  Covering up her mental grimace with a smile, she murmured “Excuse me,” to Zane and headed toward her office. Over her shoulder, she was glad to see him open the book she’d recommended and bend his head over the pages. Maybe he’d still be there in a few minutes and she’d broach the subject then.

  No, not broach the subject. She wouldn’t be that tentative. If the man remained in the library once she was free, she’d march right up to him and ask him to join her for coffee. A drink. A meal
.

  One of those.

  The caller was dispatched in less than seven minutes. But as Harper left her office once more, it was to see that Zane had found himself other female companionship. Or, since he hadn’t moved, other female companionship had found him.

  Trying not to be obvious, she sidled nearer, busying herself with some pamphlets set on the round table near the entrance. Free tax help, a notice about last March’s Founders’ Day, advice from the fire department regarding the best practices for lighting a Christmas tree.

  Obviously it was time to cull the pamphlets on the table.

  Harper didn’t do anything but make a vague note of this because her attention was focused on the conversation she happened to be eavesdropping upon. Maybe she would have felt bad about it, but the woman was not talking in a library hush. No, not at all.

  In a voice full of sympathy, she said, “It’s all over town that you’re down in the dumps.”

  He groaned. “Tawny…”

  And she would be a Tawny, Harper thought, with her tight jeans and her tight top and her high-heeled boots. Her hair had shine and style and her breasts probably were as fake as the platinum color of her tresses.

  More guilt poked at her. Since when was she so catty?

  It’s a lot better than being mousy, an inner voice intoned.

  But there wasn’t time to debate it, because Tawny had more things to say. “Honestly, Zane, people get it. Bailey and Adam with their one-and-onlys. You gotta be feeling like the odd man out.”

  “I don’t—”

  “I’d volunteer to get your mind off it with a little tumble, I would, but you know that Rick and I just started dating and it feels really good. Solid, even. I don’t want to mess that up.”

  Harper started to like Tawny more than before.

  “That’s great about you and Rick,” Zane murmured. “Now can we—”

  “But I thought of his second cousin Janice. She’s not seeing anyone at the moment. I can call her, feel her out, see if she’s up for a good-time guy and wouldn’t get her hopes pinned on a ring or anything near to that. I know it’s not in you.”

  “Great to be so well understood,” Zane said, dry as the Sahara.

  “But there’s one little thing…”

  The big man groaned. “She’s high-maintenance, is that it? Needs a guy to bring candy on the first date and send flowers the day after?”

  “No,” Tawny said.

  “She has six kids and they all have to come along with us?”

  “No.”

  “Good, though it’s not that I mind kids, it’s just that I scare them and the eight of us wouldn’t fit in my truck.”

  Hmm, Harper thought. It seemed he liked kids and didn’t want to date a high-maintenance woman. That suited her because she liked kids too. As for the high-maintenance part, her expectations were low. No man had ever brought her flowers or candy. Geoffrey had given her a ring, of course, but then wanted it back when he broke their engagement.

  “Janice even has an interesting job. But I have to tell you, the word on the street is, well, she’s a dud in the sack.”

  “A dud in the sack?” Zane repeated.

  Finally, Tawny lowered her voice, though Harper could still hear her clearly enough. “According to Andy Smerkman. He dated her when he was visiting over Christmas. Said she’s definitely boring in bed.”

  “Smerkman,” Zane said, like a curse. “I don’t want to hear any more of this.”

  Neither did Harper. On swift feet, she moved away, back in the direction of her office. There would be no coffee or drinks with Zane Tucker for her. No dinner or anything else.

  No date, one or many.

  Because Geoffrey had said she was too reserved. Boring.

  Out in the world…as well as in a bed.

  And Harper suddenly realized she couldn’t bear for Zane Tucker, with that magnificent muscled body and those beautiful big hands, to ever come to the same conclusion about her.

  Chapter 3

  Zane slid onto a stool at the counter at No Man’s Land, wishing the lousy mood the day had left him with would slide away as easily. Mandy planted a root beer in front of him without asking and he sipped at it, thinking he should trek a little farther for a real beer at Baldie’s. But he’d promised Adam he’d meet him here.

  Closing his eyes, Zane tried to forget all that had gone wrong that morning and afternoon. But damn, he was tired and his aching back served as a constant reminder. The newest A To Z employee, Holly Dillard, hadn’t memorized all the items on Gambler’s Terror List, and had opened a shipping box that morning. The new personal flotation devices they’d ordered had been packed with bubble wrap. Gleeful, Holly had begun playing with the plastic sheets and the subsequent pop pop pop had sent Gambler streaking from the office. He’d broken through the screen door and escaped into the woods.

  Zane had gotten muddy from his ankles to his knees during his pursuit, and was too late to stop his fretful canine from trying to smother his anxiety by rolling around in something very dead and very stinky.

  Lifting his arm, he sniffed at his skin. Though he’d showered and changed, he swore he could still smell critter carcass on him. Of course, that had meant a bath for Gambler too which had gotten Zane’s clean set of clothes more wet than damp.

  But then that hadn’t mattered, because half an hour later, some teenage hotshot had managed to capsize his single-person kayak a quarter-mile from the dock. Despite his life jacket, the kid had panicked and Zane had been obliged to yank on a wetsuit and swim out with a spare paddle, re-right the vessel, haul the kid into it, and coach the boy in.

  Lost: the kid’s dignity and one of their more expensive pieces of equipment.

  “Don’t feel like summer’s coming on, does it?”

  Zane glanced over at the new arrival. Grandpa Max Tucker, ninety-three years old and still able to hitch himself up on a stool. Following the old man’s gaze, he looked toward the bank of windows overlooking the river. The mountains loomed in the background, the peaks wrapped in a blanket of gray.

  “Cloudy all day,” he confirmed. “Not any actual rain, though.”

  The old man grunted. “Still the goddamned most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

  Grandpa Max, John Westbrook, David Bennett, and Will Coleman had traveled to Washington State after their military service in World War II. They’d heard the land was cheap and they’d needed a place to settle. On a hike into the Blue Mountains, the four had looked out over the parcel of land they were considering settling. At a decisive moment, they’d spotted a bald eagle soaring through the sky. Taking it as a sign, they’d bought the land and named the place Eagle’s Ridge.

  “Beautiful…even from your bedroom at Dad’s place?” Zane asked. The old man had been forced into bunking in the small apartment above his son’s garage. In March, during a powerful storm, Max’s own home had been nearly demolished and he’d had to be rescued in a dramatic and frightening fashion by Ryder Westbrook and his cousin Ford. Thank God for them. Zane and Adam had been in Seattle and didn’t know about the danger until it had already passed.

  “Nobody likes change,” Max grumbled now.

  “Not even when it’s the beginning of the end of a feud that’s lasted way too long?” In the years following the establishment of the town, the Tuckers and the Westbrooks—thanks to Max and John—had entered into a long-running and contentious dispute. If it had not exactly divided the town, it had definitely divided the families. They were now in the first stages of reunification thanks to the romance between Zane’s sister Bailey and John’s grandson Ryder.

  Mandy put a cup of coffee by Max’s elbow. He thanked the waitress and then scowled at Zane. “Nobody likes change,” his grandfather repeated.

  Zane sighed. Hell, maybe that was why he’d been walking around like the clouds were hanging directly over him all day. The fabric of Eagle’s Ridge and of his family were indeed altering.

  Without thinking, his hand went to his f
ront jeans pocket and he touched the edge of the bookmark he’d tucked inside. His foul mood couldn’t be because the image of that pretty librarian continued to haunt him. It couldn’t be because he was carrying around that damn wisp of material like it was a talisman.

  He should have left it with her at the library two days ago.

  But she’d disappeared and he’d felt stupid hanging around like a hound dog hoping for scraps, so here he was, still mooning. Still carrying that damn piece of pretty point or whatever she called it.

  The sound of the diner door opening caught his attention and without turning to check on the identity of the entering patron, he signaled to Mandy for another root beer. It was Adam. Zane didn’t know how he was certain it was his twin who’d just arrived, but he was.

  Just as he was certain his brother felt as tired as he.

  Adam gave Max and Zane a short greeting as he took a stool.

  “Your rafting gig went long,” Zane said. His brother had been on guide duty that day—escorting a book group down the water who’d just read A River Runs Through It.

  Adam swallowed down some root beer. “They should have taken fly fishing lessons instead. I might have gone deaf due to the squeals and shrieks.”

  “You could have called me—”

  “No need.” Adam waved a weary hand. “And Holly did a great job helping me button everything up once we finally made it back.”

  “Speaking of Holly, we should discuss looking for additional summer employees. The bookings already reserved make it clear we’ll need them.”

  Adam closed his eyes. “Can we not discuss business? I’m about to fall asleep in my root beer foam.”

  “We shouldn’t put it off too long,” Zane said mildly. “We don’t want to have to resort to begging Jane’s help with the watercraft.”

  That goosed a grin out of his brother. His twin had met the woman in his life when Zane sent her to him…and Adam assumed it was for a guide position—something the interior designer was wholly unsuited for.

  “And there’s something else we should discuss.” Zane glanced over at Max, who’d wandered away from the counter to chat with a silver-haired crony in one of the booths. “I think there’s something going on with Dad and Brenda.”