Shoulda Been A Cowboy. Charlotte Douglas
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Название: Shoulda Been A Cowboy
Автор: Charlotte Douglas
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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She hastened to change the subject in hopes of easing his discomfort. “I’ll be moving across country soon myself.”
“You’re selling the bed-and-breakfast?” He lifted his eyebrows in surprise.
“It belongs to my mother. She’ll keep it open after I’m gone.”
She’d said those words recently to Eileen. And now Eileen, one of her dearest friends on Earth, was gone. Out of the blue, the full impact of Eileen’s death hit her like a runaway eighteen-wheeler, and a sob escaped before she could hold it back.
In a flash, she found herself wrapped in Ethan’s strong arms, her face pressed against his broad, hard chest, her tears staining his T-shirt. He smelled of sunshine, leather, and was distinctively male. Holding her with unexpected gentleness for such a big man, he didn’t try to stop her crying.
“Let it all out,” he murmured against her hair. “Whatever it is, you’ll feel better for it.”
Her loss of control in front of a perfect stranger—perfect in every way—horrified her. His strong arms were both consoling and unsettlingly stirring. Forcing herself to abandon the comforting warmth, Caroline pushed away, crossed the kitchen and plucked tissues from a box of Kleenex.
“Sorry.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I just found out that a friend of mine passed away last night.”
The pain returned to his eyes, and he nodded with understanding. “It’s hard losing a friend.”
“She was quite old. She’d lived a good life and it was her time. I thought those facts would make her passing easier, but they don’t.”
“Look, you’re dealing with a loss,” he said with appealing gentleness. “I can grab a snack from my cooler. You don’t have to feed me, especially under the circumstances.”
“No! Please stay.” She shuddered at the need in her voice and tossed the crumpled tissues into the trash. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“You’re sure?”
Between Eileen’s unexpected death and Ethan’s provocative presence, Caroline was more befuddled than sure, but she nodded. “There’s wine in the fridge. Would you like a glass?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She retrieved the bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. Ethan took it and the corkscrew from her, and she removed long-stemmed glasses from the cupboard. With a deft twist, Ethan popped the cork and filled the glasses. He handed her one, and their fingers touched, sending a frisson of delight up her arm.
What was happening to her? Was Eileen’s death making her crazy? She took a deep breath to steady her whirling senses.
Ethan lifted his glass in a toast. Their gazes locked, and compassion glimmered in the green brilliance of his hazel eyes.
“To absent friends.” His deep voice was thick with emotion.
She raised her glass, but discovered she had to clear her throat before she could speak. “To absent friends.”
They both drank, and Ethan settled once more on the stool beside the island. “Now, how about telling me all about this town you’ll be leaving soon?”
Chapter Three
“That was a great meal,” Ethan said later. “I appreciate your taking the trouble.”
“You’re welcome, but it wasn’t any trouble.” Caroline was determined to remain quiet. She’d done far too much talking during supper, encouraged by Ethan’s questions about the town. She’d left him little time to tell her about himself, and she was curious about the handsome stranger with the badly burned hands.
They were sitting on the screened back porch in wicker rockers, finishing the bottle of wine and watching lightning bugs flit through the deep shadows of the garden. Jasmine and honeysuckle scented the air. The rising full moon cast silvery dapples on the lawn and added another element of romance to the night.
Caroline placed her half-finished glass on a side table. If she was thinking of romance, she’d definitely had too much to drink. Sure, Ethan Garrison was drop-dead gorgeous. Also kind, gentle, amusing, probably even a hometown hero, but he was also only passing through, and she had more important issues to occupy her mind than the way he made her pulse race. She had yet to decide whether to remain in the valley to honor Eileen’s requests about Hannah, the foster child, and to provide meals for the artist who was leasing Orchard Cottage.
Eileen had emphasized that her bequest wasn’t contingent on Caroline’s compliance with her final wishes. If Caroline arranged to have Blackberry Farm put on the market as soon as the will was probated, she could leave Pleasant Valley next week. Eileen’s savings and the eventual income from the farm’s sale, along with Caroline’s own nest egg, would give her enough money to travel through the western states, check out the territory and choose the perfect spot to put down roots.
“If you’re so determined to live out west,” Eileen had said in her strong gravelly voice one morning several months ago, “I don’t understand why you haven’t left long before now.”
“I can’t afford to.”
Eileen had straightened in her rocker in her usual ramrod posture reminiscent of royalty. Her soft gray eyes gleamed with wisdom behind silver-rimmed glasses, and every snow-white strand of her Gibson Girl hairstyle remained in place. With her face remarkably unlined and flushed with color for a woman in her nineties, she must have been a radiant beauty in her youth.
“You could have taken a job out west,” Eileen said, scrutinizing her closely, “until you earned enough to buy your own place.”
Caroline twisted her face into a smile that was more of a grimace. “I know everyone in town thinks I’m a wuss for putting up with my mother.”
“And what do you think?”
“That there’s more to it than that.”
Eileen rocked gently, not commenting, waiting for Caroline to explain. Caroline grappled for the right words.
“I’m not afraid of my mother,” she began, “in spite of what some people think. And I’m well aware of her faults. She’s a…difficult woman. Has been ever since Daddy died.”
“So you’re not staying with her out of a sense of obligation?”
“That’s a very small part of it. She is my mother, after all, and I’m her only child. I figure if I have to work until I can fulfill my dream, I might as well help her while I’m at it. Then, when the time comes, I can leave home with a clear conscience.”
“And that’s all?” Eileen’s gaze was skeptical.
Caroline sighed. “No.”
“I’m being a prying old busybody,” Eileen had said with self-deprecating laugh. “You don’t owe me any explanations.”
But Caroline had loved talking to her old friend. It helped her СКАЧАТЬ