Accidental Cowgirl (18 page)

* * *

“Is it four o’clock yet?” Hayley licked the last drop of her ice cream cone from her finger, then deposited her napkin in the trash can outside the Scoop-de-Loop. “Please tell me Ma hasn’t put anything else on the list that involves eating.”

Kyla groaned as they ambled slowly down the street. “I’m pretty sure she just doesn’t want to cook dinner tonight, so she’s making us fill up in town.”

Jess consulted the scavenger hunt list. “I do believe we have found and tried everything on the list, ladies. And it’s only two-thirty. Does that mean we have time for shopping?”

Hayley blew out a breath. “I think I’m going to leave the shopping to you two. I see a park bench calling my name over there.” She pointed at the green in the center of the downtown area, where a white bandstand and a circle of white benches were sprinkled under the tall, leafy trees.

Jess looked expectantly at Kyla. “And you, m’dear?”

“I think I just might wander for a bit. Go ahead without me.”

Jess headed toward the natural-healing shop they’d spotted earlier. Kyla turned the other direction, looking at the map in her hand. She traced the streets they’d already walked, then shaded her eyes as she looked westward down Pinedrop Street. She could see gorgeous green lawns bordered by tall pines and fir trees, and was drawn down the street almost without intending to walk.

As she strolled away from the village center, the street narrowed and Victorian houses took the place of the storefronts. Each house stood on at least a half-acre lot, and was surrounded by grass so green it could be in a fertilizer commercial. The trees shaded the sidewalk, which was dotted with antique-style streetlamps. The same wrought-iron benches she’d seen all over the downtown area were placed at regular intervals edging the sidewalk, with barrels of flowers on each side. It really was like a movie set—a piece of New England dropped at the edge of the Rockies.

After fifteen minutes of slow strolling, Kyla sat down on a bench, placing her bag and map beside her. Her leg was already feeling better, and she marveled that months of therapy didn’t seem to have had nearly the effect of one week riding and walking out here.

She leaned her head back and took a deep breath. Through the branches above her, the sky was a deep, surreal blue, and she could hear birds chirping busily in the tree branches above. When was the last time she’d sat down while walking through the city? Even before the Wes debacle, when had she had a chance to stop and just listen to birds or breathe fresh air?

She pulled her eyes away from the serene sky and found herself looking across the street at a gorgeous pale yellow Victorian with two towers and a carriage-style garage. It had the kind of front porch made for lemonade and cookies and rocking for hours. Lacy curtains swagged in the upstairs windows, and Kyla could imagine the dotted sunlight landing on canopy beds and
big clawfoot tubs inside.

She sighed. She already feared she was losing her mind, and the thoughts flitting through it right now weren’t providing much argument. But as she’d walked the downtown area, then set off down this serene, chirpy little street, she’d been struck by a comforting, strange peace. She’d only been out here a week, but there was something about the air, the sky, the sun, that wrapped her in a blanket of calm.

With a startle, she realized she could live anywhere she wanted to now. Besides her summer weeks in Vermont, she’d always been in Boston. It was all she knew, and all she’d thought she needed to know. But in reality, what was there for her now besides Jess and Hayley? Nothing. Her grandparents were gone, and her parents were on a ten-years-and-counting African safari. She’d lost her job, and her name had been splashed across the
Globe
and
Herald
enough times that she’d never get another one with any respectable firm back east.

So what was to stop her from picking up and heading somewhere completely new? Besides utter, raw fear of the unknown, of course? From her vantage point on the bench, she could see three more beautiful houses on each side of the one facing her. Their colors were soothing, their towers made for fairy-tale play. Kyla almost longed to amble up one of the walkways and fall asleep in a porch swing for the rest of the afternoon.

She looked back at the yellow Victorian, imagining a couple of adorable, freckle-faced kids playing ball on the lawn. Then, for a brief second, Decker crept into the picture, tossing the ball and twinkling his blue eyes her way.

She shook herself. What the
hell
was she thinking? He was way off-limits. Even though they’d shared a moment last night, that’s where it had to stop. No daydreaming, no mooning over coulda-beens. She had no intention of trusting her faulty radar again and falling for someone. It had failed her the first time, and look where it had gotten her last night. She’d let her guard down for five minutes, and bam! She’d almost gotten clocked by Malibu Marcy.

She gathered her bag and map and stood to head back down the street toward the village center. She didn’t want to fall in love with this town. Didn’t want to be sad to leave. Didn’t, most of all, want to fall for anyone who lived in Carefree. There were no happy endings possible here.

Kyla sighed heavily, looking back at the house. But what if there
might
be a happy ending here? What if there was the remote possibility Marcy was just a crazy ex and Decker hadn’t been lying? What if all the sparks she’d felt for a week now
were
real? Her legs felt heavy
as she started walking again. Even if they were real, how would she know whether she could trust her own self, let alone Decker?

When she got back to the center of the village, Kyla stopped in front of a window filled with delicate, gorgeous pastries. She was so full she couldn’t even fathom eating again, but was dismayed to feel her mouth watering as she checked out the swirly cupcakes and triple-decker whoopie pies in the display window. She stepped back to look at the sign above the door, but just as she saw the frothy pink letters that spelled out
Heaven Scent
, she spotted a reflection in the window.

Dammit. Marcy and company were coming up the street, headed in her direction.

No way was Kyla going to invite another confrontation with Marcy, so she ducked into the bakery as fast as she could. As the door tinkled closed behind her, she weaved through the little French tables toward the bakery cases in the back. She chanced a quick look behind her, and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Marcy and her little posse walk on by the window.

Kyla turned toward the bakery case, marveling at the colors and textures before her. She inhaled slowly, almost humming with pleasure. Maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea to live here after all. Between Ma’s cooking and this little heaven-sent bakery, she’d need a whole new wardrobe.

She stepped slowly to her left, deciding there was no way she could leave without a box full of something yummy for Ma. As she studied the pastries, she was struck by the simple elegance of each one. They looked shipped in straight from New York, but through a small doorway she could see industrial baking equipment, so they must actually be made here.

“Can I help you?” A tiny woman about Kyla’s age came through the doorway, wiping floury hands on her pink apron.

Kyla pointed to the cupcakes. “Could I get two dozen of these, please?” Since she knew Ma would just turn around and share them, she might as well get enough for everyone.

The woman pulled a big pink box down from the shelf behind her and placed doilies inside. “Just frosted these, so you’ll want to keep the box level.”

“Are you the baker?” Kyla couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. The woman was five-foot-two at best, and probably barely weighed a hundred pounds. She was messing with Kyla’s preconceptions of the fat, happy baker.

“That’s me. I know. Never trust a skinny baker.” She smiled widely as she set the cupcakes neatly into the box. “I’m Jenny. You must be visiting.”

Kyla nodded. “I’m vacationing.” Jenny’s bright blue eyes invited conversation as she fussed with the cupcakes. Kyla looked back at the brimming case of pastries. “Are there enough people in town to
eat
all of this food?”

Jenny laughed. “Nope. I supply a couple of the guest ranches around here. They want
their guests to have the best of the best, but they’re ranchers, not chefs.” She winked. “So I help them out a little.” She swept her arm at the pastries. “This is the fun stuff, though. I love a pretty case filled with color.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Kyla smiled.

Jenny taped up the box and put a decorative bakery sticker on top. “You want this delivered so you don’t have to carry it? My dad does the deliveries for me. He used to be a state trooper, so he misses running the roads. This helps keep him out of trouble.”

“His name wouldn’t happen to be Roscoe, would it?”

“Uh-oh. You’ve met?”

Kyla chuckled. “Oh, yes. We’ve met.”

“Well, don’t hold it against me.”

“Never.” Kyla laughed out loud. “He’s quite a character.”

“That he is. You should have met him before the Alzheimer’s kicked in. He was a good cop. Really good cop. Unfortunately, he forgets sometimes that he isn’t still on the state payroll. He still has mostly good days, but the bad ones are creeping up on him.” Jenny brought the box over to the register. “He’s heading up to Whisper Creek and over to the Tucker Place in a while. Are you staying at either of those?”

“Whisper Creek, actually. And I’ve been blaming Ma for the five pounds I’ve gained just since I got here. I guess she’s not the culprit after all. Does your dad deliver out there a lot?”
Like, almost every day? Like, please say yes so I can stop worrying that he’s conducting some sort of surveillance on me?

Jenny laughed. “I probably shouldn’t have told you I do their baking. Ma’s actually a good cook. She just doesn’t have the time right now to do this sort of fussy stuff. It’s an arrangement that works well for both of us. And Dad.”

Kyla handed Jenny a couple of twenties and took her change, leaving a generous tip. “Any chance you ship those croissants to Boston?”

“I wish.” Jenny pulled a tray of huge peanut butter cookies toward her and put six of them in a bag. “Here. Sneak these to Decker and Cole. Ma won’t bake them anymore, says she doesn’t want to contribute to their early deaths by giving them cholesterol problems. They’re both as healthy as horses, so I’m not worried.” Her eyes practically twinkled as she handed Kyla the bag and put the cupcakes back behind the counter. “I’ll make sure Dad gets these out to
Whisper Creek before dinnertime.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you keeping him busy. Remind me to call in an order on the day I leave so he can be doing deliveries instead of chasing me down the highway.” Kyla turned to head for the door, but just at that moment, she spotted Marcy headed back her way. She did a quick about-face and headed back to the counter. “Do you, um, have a ladies room I could use?”

Jenny glanced toward the door, then shook her head as she pulled the swinging shelf open. “C’mon in.” She pointed through the doorway behind her. “I don’t normally think hiding is a great strategy.” The bells on the door tinkled and Kyla heard Marcy’s voice as she ducked around the corner. Jenny peeked around at her. “In this case, though, I highly recommend it. That girl is bad news.”

* * *

“So.” Cole looked up from the bridle he was fixing as Decker strode into the tack room Saturday morning.

“So what?”

“Don’t
so what
me. Have you taken out a contract on Marcy yet?”

“Don’t even tempt me.” Decker pulled a clipboard from a nail on the wall and started writing.

“You could probably contact one of Dad’s old buddies. Bet they know someone who could take care of her.”

Decker narrowed his eyes at Cole. “Again, don’t tempt me.”

“She really screwed up a good thing, didn’t she?”

“Not talking about it.”

“Decker.” Cole put on his best imperious look. “You were totally going to kiss her.”

“Not talking about it.”

“If Marcy hadn’t pulled her diva act, you would have been mouth-to-mouth in three seconds flat.”

“Cole, what exactly does
not talking about it
mean to you?”

“Decker, the entire bar saw you. Even
you
can’t deny that you two have some smokin’ chemistry going on.”

“Well, not if she has anything to say about it.” Decker frowned as he remembered Marcy’s entrance and Kyla’s quick exit last night. He wished he could have seen it coming, and kicked himself because he should have. But he hadn’t, and once again, Marcy had ended up with the upper hand. Literally, he sighed. He couldn’t believe she’d been ready to haul off and slug Kyla. Christ, he felt like he was on a badly-scripted reality show. Who
did
that sort of crap in real life?

“I imagine she wasn’t too impressed with Marcy’s little act?”

“That would be putting it mildly.”

Cole paused his repair and looked squarely at Decker. “You know, we’ve had a lot of women here this summer. You’ve barely given most of them the time of day. You’ve
never
danced with them. And you most certainly haven’t ever been ready to kiss one. What gives?”

“I’m pretty sure I said I didn’t want to talk about it. So could we not talk about it?” Decker pretended to write on the clipboard, stalling for time. He couldn’t really blame Cole for asking. It was true—despite many women’s best efforts all summer, he’d steered way clear of any involvements. Even the short and meaningless ones. Especially those, actually.

So what
was
it about Kyla that set his logical brain on the back burner while his completely
illogical
brain went nutso and tried kissing her in a bar? He wished he could blame it on the physical attraction. Yep, that would definitely be easier. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way her body had leaned on his after her panic attack, the way her hand had disappeared inside his own, gripping with a strength that seemed unusual for its size, the way she’d felt last night in his arms, practically melting into him.