Lonesome Cowboy (Honky Tonk Hearts) (9 page)

The low rumble of an idling engine told him there wasn’t anything wrong with the car, and there was no appearance of a cell phone being held to the head silhouetted though the rear window. So why pull over here?

Figuring he was there anyway, Marshall approached the driver’s side, but the occupant didn’t move or acknowledge his presence in any way. The sun’s rays on rich, reddish-brown hair caused his hand to pause as he reached to tap the glass. A quick glimpse of an occupied baby seat in the back confirmed his surprise.

Amy?

He followed through with the gentle knuckle rap against the window.

Hair fanned over the soft curve of her cheek as she spun toward him, her startled eyes wide for a moment before slowly closing in relief.

The window hummed down. “Marshall? What are you doing here…and scaring me half to death?”

A floral peach scent floated on the cool draft from the air conditioner, tightening his throat for a moment. He covered the lapse with a shrug. “I saw the car on the side of the road. Didn’t know it was you until I got here.” His agitation made his words come out harsher than he intended. “You should pay more attention. Any lunatic could’ve pulled up behind you, and you never would have known.”

She tossed a guilty look over her shoulder at the baby sleeping soundly in the backward-facing car carrier. “I should have been paying more attention,” she said almost to herself as her slim brows creased in concern. Then her frown turned toward the window.

“What
are
you doing here?”

The auburn strands danced slightly as she shook her head again, one hand settling on the steering wheel and the other on the gearshift. “Just fantasizing—old dreams die hard I guess.”

The last was muttered almost to herself before she glanced up with a small, self-conscious smile on her pretty face. His heart did a flip.

“I appreciate you stopping, but we’re fine.”

The whimsical look in her eyes dimmed for something more foreign than he remembered from her—resignation.

“You sure?” he asked.

With one last look at the bed and breakfast, she nodded with a half-sigh of, “Yeah, we’ll be fine,” almost to herself.

Don’t do it, Marsh. Let her go.

But he couldn’t, not when he knew exactly what that whimsical look had meant.

With a hand on the top of the car, he glanced over his shoulder to the empty house. The mantra continued, but this time his head wasn’t winning the battle.

“Wanna take a look around?”

The window stopped halfway up, and he almost laughed at her bright eyes widening as they ricocheted between him and the property.

“What? N-no…I can’t. There’s no one here. We can’t go traipsing around someone else’s property. Besides I don—”

Marshall grinned and opened the door for her. “I know the realtor. It won’t be an issue, I’m sure.”

Amy remained in her seat. “But Charlotte, I’d have to get the stroller and—”

He bent down to pull on the trunk release, careful not to touch the lean length of leg peeking out below a faded denim skirt. “You get the babe. I’ll grab the stroller.”

Uncertainty in her brow line was broken by a spark of excitement twitching her lips. His grin broadened when she followed him out and opened the back door.

Marshall went around to the trunk and pulled out the folded down stroller. He raised a brow and leaned it against the tire hub just as Amy backed out of the door with the baby carrier in hand.

Her chuckle at his expression echoed in his chest as she reached for the contraption.

“Believe me, it’s easier going up than down.” And she proved it with a simple press of the handle and quick snap of her arm. “See?”

He stepped back to let her mess with securing the carrier into the foreign device. As she bent over, his gaze was drawn to the curved backside covered by the faded denim.

Marshall blew out a slow breath and turned away from the dangerous thoughts popping into his brain.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked as she pushed the wheels into a straight position next to him. “I feel like we’re trespassing.”

“Would it help if I told you I know the owner, too? Trust me, he won’t mind you taking a look around.”

An excited glint touched her eyes. “I guess.”

He matched her shorter strides as they made their way down the long drive. “You guess? Haven’t you been wanting your own inn since before I even knew you?”

“Yes, but…” Her momentum slowed. “How did you—”

“You told me. That afternoon by Miller’s creek, remember?”

Amy remembered, all right. To hide the burning in her cheeks, she pushed the stroller forward and swallowed a gulp of warm air. That Marshall remembered her rambled musings, especially in light of
the rest
of that afternoon, surprised her. Her skin tingled and heated up with the memories of his solid arms around her, his damp chest pressed against hers and…

She choked back the unbidden visions. “This is, uh, still just a dream. I don’t know if I’d be able to afford a place like this. There’s Hank’s insurance policy, and maybe when the house sells…”

Tension turned the air crisp and tight, filling the small spaces left by the overt heat.
Smart move, Amy.
In trying to get out of one uncomfortable situation, she’d backed right into a worse one. How could she have brought Hank’s name up in front of Marshall?

“I…didn’t—”

His large hand waved it off, but he didn’t look at her, instead finding apparent interest in the garden gates to the left of the house.

“Do you know how long this place has been up for sale,” she asked quickly, reaching for a neutral topic. The fact that he was even here talking to her civilly was a miracle in itself, and she didn’t want to lose the tentative truce.

“Couple years.” Marshall pointed to where he had been looking over the gate. “The gardens extend to a little creek running over the back of the property. A gazebo is there, along with a set of swings and small bridged walkway over the stream. Was a pretty place back in its heyday.”

He continued the descriptive commentary right up to the porch steps. The boyish grin on his face, like he was holding his breath for a positive reaction from her, took her by surprise, stealing the breath from her lungs. But she didn’t even have a chance to catch up on that moment or reply before Marshall reached down, took a firm hold of the whole stroller and carried it safely up the six steps to the front of the veranda.

Following, she waited while he punched in the combination to the small lockbox on the doorknob.

“How did you know the combination?”

“Uh, Lee-Ann, the real estate agent. She always uses the same code,” he answered quickly, pulling out the key.

“Well, that doesn’t seem too smart.”

“Small towns,” he muttered as he fiddled with the door and pushed it open.

A smile deepened his five o’clock shadow as he took off his Stetson and swept it forward before her. “Your castle awaits, m’lady.”

It was hard not to let her own smile falter until she walked passed him. The moment was bittersweet, reminding her of how Marshall used to be with her—always kind and courteous, often a little silly, so easy to be with—and so different from the sullen, angry man he appeared to have turned into.

Did I do that?
Was it her fault he’d grown such a bitter side? Or was it just her who pulled that out of him?

Guilt took another bite out of her soul.

“Amy?”

Realizing she was blocking the doorway, she hid her remorse behind a push of the stroller across the hardwood entryway.

The musty smell of a home closed for a long time brushed her nostrils, but neither her guilt nor the staleness could subdue the excitement that caught at the carved maple front desk tucked into a little inlet beside a matching banister leading up to the second landing.

A step to the left took her to the doorway of a beautiful, bright salon; gray sheets covered furniture in front of a prominent fireplace and mantel built to be adorned for every holiday season.

Marshall’s arm came over her shoulder to point into the room.

“There’s a small alcove and breakfast room through that door.”

His cologne mingled with the heat of male. Her knees trembled and she wondered if this was wise; simply being in his presence for a few moments ignited all sorts of dormant feelings.

“And the dining area and kitchen are through the door to the right.”

“N-nice.” Ducking back, she grabbed a quick glimpse of her daughter to assure herself she still slept, and proceeded to the safety of another room. A large dining table that could seat at least twenty lay covered with a floral sheet; above, a chandelier graced with a kaleidoscope of candle-shaped lights was covered in a thick layer of dust. In the corner sat a couple saw horses with the crown molding laid across their chipped surface. A few tools sat amongst the sawdust and peanut shells scattered in the corner.

At least someone had been trying to do a bit of renovation.
Maybe she could work a trade of some sort to get them to finish. Laundry, meals…there were lots of possibilities.

And as the list grew, she noted the large open doorway at the other end where maple cupboards ringed a large island in the kitchen.

“It’s bigger than I first thought. I wonder how many rooms there are.”

Turning back, she found Marshall rested back casually against the front desk, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“I believe there are eight rooms upstairs and two guest cabins ‘nestled in the garden’ as Mrs. Johansson used to say.”

Amy grinned, excitement filling her with every new feature she found. More lists of minor renovations to get the place up and running formed as she practically skipped to the staircase.

On the first step, however, she stopped and glanced back to the stroller. She bit her lip, assessing the stairs, and then decided just taking the carrier with her would be easier.

Stepping back down, she reached for the handle, but Marshall’s hand covered hers. She raised her gaze to find handsome blue eyes smiling down at her.

“Go on, I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“No, you don’t have to do that.” He’d done so much already; she didn’t want to impose on him with a newborn who could wake at any moment.

His hand squeezed gently and lifted hers to the banister.

“Go on. It’s no problem. The Peanut and I have an understanding.”

A flip in her chest started her heart pounding as she glanced down at the hand—bigger than her daughter’s head at the moment. Strong and protective.

The lump forming in her throat at his thoughtfulness allowed her only a nod of appreciation, and something more that she didn’t have the right to consider anymore.

The door of her heart behind which she’d locked the ghosts of their past shuddered and shook, threatening to open again. She turned away, taking the steps quickly with plans to take a short, quick look, and then leave before her thoughts took her further down a dead path.

At the top landing, she made the mistake of glancing down the stairs just as Marshall tucked the blanket around her daughter’s shoulders. She pressed her lips together against the emotions swelling up.
Hormones, Amy. Just hormones.
She still didn’t have control over the stupid things yet, so the emotional lump in her throat was only due to the sight of a sweet moment—at least that was the mantra she maintained as she darted down the hallway on her right.

A quick glance found carved beds and wardrobes of various shapes and sizes in all the rooms, ensuite bathrooms in the first two of the four rooms. The last two doors revealed a large bathroom with a claw-foot tub in one, and the largest linen closet she had ever seen, packed full with sheets, blankets, towels and other necessities for multiple guests. All leading her to believe that many of the amenities and furniture would then come with the sale of the property. That alone would save a bundle in start-up costs.

Excitement got the better of her as she found similar rooms and items down the other hall. Returning to the landing, she pushed aside the dusty drapes and stared out over a large backyard bordered by overgrown gardens. The two, small individual cabins Marshall had mentioned sat to the left while sun-sparkling water of the creek trickled behind a fair-sized gazebo. All implanting images of what could be. And she could see it all, every flower, every newly painted fencepost, every piece of wallpaper, all fresh, new and inviting.

But reality slowly niggled in. If Hank’s house didn’t sell for the minimum asking price, putting her money into a business right now could be a huge financial risk if it didn’t work out. But then again, if it did work…

I’d definitely have to do my homework.
Perhaps she could talk with the realtor, better yet, the sellers themselves to come to some mutually acceptable arrangements. Calculations ran rampant in her mind. She would need a business plan and financial statements and—

All thoughts ceased with the timbre of the rich voice reaching her ears, quiet, calm, endearing.

“That-a-girl. Just lay their quiet for a little longer while your mama takes a peek around the place.”

Amy turned and took a hesitant step to the banister.

“You should have seen her face when she walked in the door,” Marshall continued from below, a tiny fist hooked onto his finger. “You’d have thought Santa just put a life-size doll house under her Christmas tree.”