Courted by the Texas Millionaire. Crystal Green

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СКАЧАТЬ should’ve known that you changed everything about me, Vi.”

      When she glanced up, she saw more yearning in his eyes.

      But then it disappeared.

      He adjusted his burgundy silk tie, then started to leave again, as if they had finally knotted up their loose ends.

      “I only wanted you to know that,” he said.

      She could barely nod.

      Then after a pause in which she thought he was going to tell her—what? What could he say now?—he moved out of the alley, turning the corner, out of sight.

      But not out of her heart or mind.

       Chapter Two

      Down the street, Violet heard laughter through the swinging doors of the Queen of Hearts, and she headed for the saloon before she made a fool of herself and went running after Davis.

      They’d supposedly cleared the air, so why muddle it again?

      She kept telling herself this as she walked inside the building, looking straight ahead, feeling the heavy stares of the group of elderly ladies—the knitting club—who met at the table under the rustic wagon wheel light fixture; the collection of old men at the bar who nursed mugs of beer under the whirring ceiling fans; the just-turned-twenty-one crowd who considered drinking at the Queen of Hearts in Old Town a tradition until they moved on to the newer bars in the more modern part of town.

      Violet knew that she should risk a smile at them—after all, she’d be waiting on them for the first time tonight—so she tried it.

      They all looked away.

      Her face heated as she went to the back room, donning her old-fashioned red-and-white-striped half-apron.

      “There she is!” Mom rushed up to Violet, standing on her tiptoes to give her a kiss on the cheek.

      She smelled like rose perfume. Violet had always remembered that scent, even when she’d been away. It reminded her of when her mom’s hair had been red, not a premature gray.

      “Ready for some Friday night action?” Mom asked.

      “I’m hoping for it.” And so was the bank account that had dwindled during the months when she’d relied on it during a job hunt that had never borne fruit. It’d also suffered from the money she’d invested in the saloon after her parents had bought it with the last of their savings, plus all the times she’d put in more money to keep the bar and grill afloat during off-season months.

      When her father came in, resplendent in the type of outfit a bartender might’ve worn in the late ‘20s, back when old Tony Amati had settled in what would become St. Valentine, she gave him a great big hug.

      “Together again,” he said, patting her on the back.

      “I’m glad to be with you,” she said.

      He grinned right before he retreated to the main room’s bar and her mom took over in the kitchen.

      Smoothing out her apron and inhaling deeply, then exhaling, Violet followed her dad.

      People were just starting to trickle in for early-bird dinners, and as Violet took orders, everyone was civil, if not a little cool, to her.

      She wished they could see just how much her time away had helped her grow out of the dreamer who’d announced her big aspirations to anyone within range—that she wasn’t merely an arrogant girl who’d thought the town was beneath her.

      She was several orders in when Wiley Scott, the former owner and editor of the Recorder, called after her.

      “Why, if it isn’t my favorite story chaser!” he said.

      “Boisterous as ever,” she said, going over to where he sat at the bar.

      They hugged, and if she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought that Wiley was putting out an extra effort to welcome her amid the other cold shoulders.

      He held her away from him, giving her a paternal once-over. He was a man who looked far more likely to be at home at a chuck wagon than anywhere else. His silver hair stood up on one side, as if he’d had his hand against that part of his head as he leaned his elbow on the bar.

      It was obvious that there was true pride in him as he squeezed her arm. Besides her family, he’d been one of the first people she’d told about the journalism scholarship for the University of California. Such an earned honor didn’t happen to very many miner’s kids in St. Valentine.

      “How’re you doing?” she asked.

      “I hate retirement. I should’ve never sold the paper to Davis. That’s how I’m doing.”

      At the sound of Davis’s name, a tap-tap-tap went off in Violet’s chest. She blushed and hoped Wiley didn’t notice.

      “Speaking of which,” he said kiddingly, “I saw you going into the Recorder while I was walking here. You looking for a new job?”

      Obviously, her parents hadn’t told him about the layoff yet.

      “No.” She fiddled with her ordering pad. “The Times had to cut staff, but something’s bound to come down the pike any time now.” She didn’t add that she hopefully would be back on her feet and in the city long before she even had time to settle at a desk here.

      “That’s a real shame, but if anyone can land on all fours, it’s you.” He drained his beer mug. A line of foam clung to his bristled upper lip before he wiped it away with his flannel shirtsleeve. “Too bad you won’t stick around for a place on the Recorder, though. You and Davis made a good team back in the day. I remember how well you two worked together whenever you’d come in to get the school paper printed in the office.”

      She thought of standing next to Davis just under a half hour ago, thought of how good he still smelled, like cedar chips, fresh and manly.

      Manly. He was a man, no longer a boy, and her body was reacting to that.

      She realized it’d been like that, too, back in high school, every time he’d stood close by, leaning over her shoulder while she’d typed up a story.

      And she would’ve pretended to ignore him before he’d broken open her emotional dam with one kiss. But, deep down, she would’ve gone weak, her pulse warbling as she wished he would tease her some more. That he would adore her just as much as she did him, even though she would’ve died before admitting it first.

      Not that any of it mattered now, even as Wiley gave her a mischievous glance, as if he could tell just what she was thinking.

      Obviously, when he’d retired from reporting, he hadn’t left everything behind.

      Violet signaled to her dad behind the bar so he’d get Wiley another beer. “Anything else you need?”

      He rested a hand on her arm. “Yeah. I need for you to keep that chin up, even as you’re eating humble pie.”

      He СКАЧАТЬ