Guardian Cowboy. Carla Cassidy

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      His eyes warmed and a sensual curl of his lips shot heat through her. “It’s good enough to make a grown man weep,” he replied.

      Oh, my, but she’d love for him to look that way, to talk that way, about her.

      They had just been served their desserts and coffee when Tony Nakni, his wife, Mary, and Mary’s grandmother, Halena, came in.

      Tony and Mary waved as they took a booth on the opposite side of the café, while Halena wove her way through the tables in the center to approach Janis and Sawyer.

      “Hi, Halena,” Janis said.

      Halena Redwing was one of the more colorful characters in Bitterroot. She had the proud, beautiful, facial features of her Choctaw blood and a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. Rumor had it she loved dancing naked in rainstorms. She also had a penchant for funky hats and evening dresses.

      Tonight she was clad in a red gown with glittery matching shoes. A little hat of black-and-red feathers sat atop her shiny silver hair.

      “Evening, ma’am,” Sawyer said.

      “Sawyer, it’s nice to see you out with a good woman,” Halena said. “It’s past time for you to get married and have a bunch of babies.”

      “Halena.” Janis laughed. “We’re just having dinner,” she protested.

      “Dinner is a good start and you could do a lot worse.” Halena leaned into Janis. “He’s got the sexiest, most pinchable butt in all of Bitterroot,” she said in a loud, mock whisper.

      “Geez, Halena.” Sawyer’s cheeks flushed red.

      “Just saying,” she said and then turned on her sparkly red shoes and headed back to the booth where Tony and Mary awaited her.

      “Halena is definitely a pip,” Janis said.

      “I swear that woman likes to torment me whenever she sees me,” Sawyer said, but his voice held a wealth of affection. “She steals my hat whenever she can and goes out of her way to embarrass me whenever possible.”

      “At least she gave me some valuable information.” Janis grinned at him teasingly.

      Once again Sawyer’s cheeks dusted with color. “And now would be a great time to change the subject.”

      They lingered over coffee and their conversation remained light and easy.

      “Favorite music?” he asked her.

      “Anything country,” she replied.

      “Favorite flower?”

      “Pink roses. When I went to my first school dance, my date didn’t know he was supposed to get me a corsage. My dad ran to the florist and got me a beautiful corsage of pink roses. They remind me of love.”

      “Favorite place to hang out in Bitterroot?”

      She frowned thoughtfully. “The courtyard in the center of town is a nice place to sit and relax.”

      Then it was her turn to fire questions at him. She learned that spring was his favorite season and he loved the sound of a redbird’s song. His favorite time of day was evening and he’d broken his arm when the other guys had dared him to ride a bull named Cowboy Crusher.

      They spent a half hour firing all kinds of questions to each other. She was disappointed when their cups were empty and it was time to leave. But she knew work time came early for him at the ranch.

      As she got into his truck, nervous butterflies took flight in the pit of her stomach. Now was the time of reckoning. She had to tell him that nothing had happened between them last night.

      “This has been nice,” he said when they were a block away from the bar. “I feel like we sort of jumped the gun last night and now we need to work backward and get to know each other better.”

      She gazed at him in the illumination of the dashboard. “Sawyer...about last night,” she began. She turned her gaze out the front window, unable to look at him while she made her confession. As his headlights splashed across the back of the bar, she gasped in horror.

      * * *

      Sawyer stared at the white paint sprayed across the dark wood of the building. The letters were huge—Janis Little is a Whore.

      What the hell? Was this because of what had happened last night? Who else had known that he’d spent the night in her bed besides a couple of his friends?

      Janis began to cry. “Oh, my God...wh-who would do this?” she said between her gulping sobs. “I... I’m not a whore. I’m not.”

      She turned to look at him and in her eyes he saw not only shock and hurt, but also a fierce denial of the characterization the words gave her.

      “Janis, of course you’re not...” he began in an attempt to calm her down. He turned off his headlights so the words were no longer visible in the darkness of the night.

      “I’ve only had one lover in my whole life. Only one, and I’m thirty years old. You’re the one and only man who has ever stayed in my room overnight. I wasn’t a whore when I was growing up and I’m not a whore now.” Anything else she might have had to say was made impossible as she buried her face in her hands and wept in earnest.

      “Janis, nobody believes you’re a whore,” he said. “I mean, nobody I know believes that.” It was true. He had never heard any hint or whisper of a rumor about Janis being loose and wild. “This is the work of some no-count creep. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s cleaned up before morning, but first we need to call Dillon.”

      Dillon Bowie was the chief of police for the small town. More recently he had become the husband of Cassie, who owned the ranch Sawyer called home.

      “And I should call Gary,” she said as she drew in several deep breaths in an obvious effort to push back her tears.

      Gary Runyon owned the bar and Sawyer agreed that he should be called, as well.

      The minute the calls had been made, Janis got out of the truck. Sawyer quickly followed her. She stood with her back to him and stared at the building where the letters were faintly visible in the illumination from a nearby streetlight.

      He could hear that she was still softly crying and could see that her entire body visibly trembled. “Janis,” he said softly as he grabbed her by one arm and turned her around to face him.

      She instantly came into his arms and buried her face in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her in an effort to somehow comfort her.

      “Nobody will see this except us and Dillon and Gary,” he said. “I’ll make sure it’s painted over by morning. I promise.”

      “But why would somebody do this to me?” Her breath was a warm caress against his neck. She released a small laugh that had nothing to do with her being amused. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think my mother was behind this.”

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