The Stolen Suitor (8 page)

Jeremy could hardly believe Eric had even gotten on a horse today. He must be really serious about Trix Stubben. But that didn’t explain the way he was looking at Ben right now. And Jeremy and Chris weren’t the only ones who noticed. Joshua noticed Eric staring at Ben too, and he didn’t look happy. His face reminded Jeremy of the dark thunderclouds that came in over the mountains.

“Ben, you’ll wanna eat before we get movin’.” Joshua said. His voice was quiet, but Ben immediately spun that rope into a coil quick as you please and went over to plop down next to Joshua. He even gave Joshua’s arm a quick squeeze, which Joshua didn’t seem to mind one bit.

CHRIS
should have picked somewhere else to eat. He could have sat near Joshua if nothing else. Being polite with Jeremy was one thing, but he didn’t want to give Jeremy the wrong idea.

Well, he
did
want to. It just wasn’t wise.

But Jeremy wasn’t threatening or pushy. He was… sweet. Shy, except when he started talking about something that interested him and his eyes got all sensitive and intelligent. Then there were the weird flashes of flirtation that came and went just as fast, as if he was trying to be bold but then he’d forget to try. And hell if he didn’t look good in what he was wearing. It was only a heather blue T-shirt, for God’s sake, but it fit him close enough to show off the lean lines of his chest and stomach and even—when he moved his arms—his nipples. And that blue color conspired with the sun to bring out the red in his long hair.

Chris took a bite of his sandwich and told himself to get a grip. He couldn’t be attracted to Jeremy Crassen. And if he
was
attracted, no one was ever going to know it but him. He thought of Trix and Janie. A flush of anxiety cooled him down considerably.

He finished his sandwich and wadded up the paper it came in. Jeremy was still picking at his. Chris cleared his throat. “You asked earlier if I spent much time outdoors in Denver. I did. I went hiking or skiing in the mountains with friends on weekends, and there’s some good fly-fishing close to Denver too.”

Jeremy’s eyes lit up. “I love fly-fishing.”

“You do?” The Crassens didn’t seem like the fly-fishing types to Chris.

Jeremy worried at his bottom lip with his teeth, a gesture that Chris found far too eye-catching. “My dad used to go. He’d take me along when I was little. I’d read on the bank while he fished, but he showed me how to cast. And then after….” He looked away. “I go by myself. My technique probably won’t win any awards, but I like it and I catch fish. That’s what matters, right?”

“That’s the important part. That everyone has a good time.” Dear God, his voice! Could he sound any flirtier?

Jeremy gave him a knowing sideways glance. “Not sure the fish are having a good time.”

“True,” Chris admitted. “Guess my metaphor needs some work.”

“How about: as long as you catch the fish you want, the technique doesn’t matter.”

Chris laughed. “Or: it’s all in the flick of the wrist.”

Jeremy looked shocked, then gave a throaty chuckle. “The temptation of the well-cast fly.”

“I swear, Ma, it was
this big
.” Chris held out his hands about ten inches apart and grinned.

Jeremy raised his eyebrows. “A true fisherman knows it’s not about getting the fish on the hook. It doesn’t count unless you can reel it in.”

Chris’s throat got tight. He let his gaze drop to the moving river, where he saw a trout dart by. Was that what this was? Was Jeremy intent on reeling him in?

No, that was stupid. Jeremy seemed… harmless. And innocent. And why did that idea turn Chris on even more?

“Think you might wanna go sometime? Fly-fishing, I mean? With me?” Jeremy sounded throaty, like he was trying to be suave, but the nervous leaked through.

Yes.
No
. God, what was he doing? He had to stop this train before it derailed. Or derail this train before it went too far. Something like that. He couldn’t mess around with Jeremy Crassen.

“I dunno,” Chris said coolly. “I’m busy at the Big Basin when I’m not working. You know, helping out Trix and all.” It was definitely a shutdown. He tried not to feel bad about the way Jeremy’s face fell.

“Oh. Sure.”

“Listen up, y’all! Time to saddle up!” That was Charlie. “We’ll go around and take a few extra minutes to make sure everyone’s comfortable. So feel free to up ’n’ ask if ya have any questions.”

“Have a nice ride back,” Chris said to Jeremy before he stood and headed for his horse.

Why did it feel like something inside him just died?
Maybe you can deny Jeremy Crassen. But can you deny any guy you’re ever attracted to ever, for your whole life? Really?

He could if he had to. He could to be a father to Janie, and a friend and husband to Trix.

He noticed Eric was the first one on his horse, and Ben was right there with him, telling him something about his knees and touching one, pressing it toward the horse, while he talked. Chris shook his head.

Eric was working at Big Basin now? He had to talk to Trix about that. And soon.

MABELINE
Crassen was shopping at the Merc on Monday morning, picking up some cleaning supplies for her customers. Without warning, on a perfectly ordinary day, black lightning struck her in the heart.

That is, Billy Stubben suddenly walked right toward her. He looked just like his father, dark hair gone gray and his handsome face lined by grief, sun, and time. He wore a little turned-down smile, the kind the minister wore when he approached the oldest lady in the congregation to say hello.
Bless her heart
.

“Say, Mabe! Glad I ran into you. I’ve been wantin’ to ask you somethin’.” By his casual tone, you’d think they’d spoken just last week instead of over twenty-five years ago.

Mabe raised her chin. “That so, Billy Stubben?”

Seemed like Billy didn’t hear her sarcasm. He went right on ahead with that turned-down smile. “Well, you know my wife passed on, nearly three years ago now….”

Mabe felt something spark inside her, something she hadn’t felt in years. Maybe Billy wasn’t being all minister-like. Maybe Billy was going to… ask her to dinner? She touched her hair nervously. Billy Stubben could still make her heart flutter. Those blue eyes of his hadn’t changed at all. She wished she’d taken the time this morning to do her hair nice and put on a little makeup. She wished she wasn’t wearing what was practically a housedress. She tried to bite her lips without being obvious, hoping to pinken them up some.

Billy struggled a moment. He wasn’t looking so much at her eyes as her cheek. “And, well, I’m a stubborn old coot, I guess. I was doin’ pert well at first. Then….”

Then John died
, Mabe thought. She’d felt John’s death hard enough herself, and she’d barely talked to the boy. She’d imagined losing Eric like that, and it had filled her chest with the crush of sympathetic grief. She started to reach out to touch Billy’s arm and stopped herself. “I never got a chance to say how sorry I am for your loss, Billy.”

His gaze flickered to her eyes. Pain shimmered on his face and he blinked. “I appreciate that, Mabe.” He cleared his throat. “Anyhow, guess I’ve let things go ever since, and my daughters are twistin’ my arm ’bout it. They say I need someone to come in and clean once a week or so. And, well, I wondered if you had some time in your schedule to do for me.”

Mabe’s heart, which had softened at the thought of Billy losing his son, slammed shut so hard and fast, she swayed on her feet. She felt her face burn. Her words were near a whisper. “You askin’ me to be your
maid
, Billy Stubben?”

Billy looked confused at her tone, and likely what he saw on her face too. “I—well… I know you clean house for a number of folks in town. I thought…. Have I offended you somehow?”

Oh, it hurt. It was a familiar sting, this one, oh so familiar. It was a pain she never thought she’d have to feel again. Goddamn Billy Stubben to hell. And the stink of it was, he didn’t seem to have the least idea why she was so mad.

Well. Mabeline Crassen never had been one to hold her tongue.

She looked around and lowered her voice. “Offended me? Why should I be offended, Billy? Just because we were once sweethearts and now you’re suggestin’ I scrub your kitchen floor and toilets? For money?”

Billy looked shocked. “But I…. Mabe, that was so long ago. And nothin’ ever came of it.”

She didn’t think; she just blurted out in anger. “Ha! Nothin’ ever came of it? Is that what you think, Billy Stubben? How wrong you are!” She felt vengefully pleased at how ignorant he was, that
he didn’t know
. She pressed her lips tight over the need to flaunt it and tell him. She’d sworn she wouldn’t long ago.

He looked at her in bewilderment. “What do you mean?” His eyes searched her face intently.

Billy never had been a stupid man, even if he had been an uppity one. She felt a thrill of warning. She hadn’t meant this conversation to go this way. In fact, she’d never wanted to speak to him again in the first place!

“Never mind,” she said quietly, collecting herself together. “And no, Mr. Stubben. Unfortunately, my time is already booked up.” She affected a haughty air, raising her nose. “Good day!”

With that, she walked away.

ON
Sunday, Chris had gone over to Big Basin and spent the afternoon with Trix and Janie.

Eric, Trix had said, wanted the job and asked for a trial period. He was working hard, so she’d let him stay. She’d been dismissive about it and didn’t seem inclined to discuss it further.

Chris wasn’t happy. No guy with an almost fiancée would be pleased about Eric dimple-chin-blue-eyes Crassen hanging around. But Chris trusted Trix to have good judgment. Besides, she was still mourning. They hadn’t done more than kiss because she wasn’t ready. Even if Eric did try his charms, they would fall on deaf ears or… lips or whatever. Chris was sure of it.

On Monday, Jeremy came into the Merc around noon and headed into the aisles. Chris didn’t run to the back this time, but he steeled himself to be polite and nothing more. He prepared excuses in his head in case Jeremy tried to hang out.

But Jeremy only said hello at the register and gave him a secret sort of smile. He placed his purchase on the counter. “I need a lightbulb,” Jeremy said.

Chris looked at what was on the counter and stifled a smile. “That’s lucky for you, then, because I happen to have a lightbulb right here.” He rang up the purchase.

Jeremy just
winked
at him and left the store.

Chris was unable to think of anything else for a good three hours.

On Tuesday, Chris ended up in line behind Jeremy when he went to the bank to make a deposit. Jeremy said hello and smiled, but then turned around and didn’t look at Chris again, which drove him batshit crazy.

On Wednesday, Chris went to Nora’s for lunch later than usual and realized Jeremy was cooking in the back. Jeremy didn’t come out to say hey, but when Chris’s burger arrived, he found two chocolate kisses on the plate between his burger and fries. And the stupid part was, it made him so freaking
happy
.

Thursday, Chris stuck one of his favorite popper fly lures in a little box, sat it on his desk, then put it in a drawer, then brought it out again, took it to the cash register, put it back in the office, and basically treated it like a hot potato all day. He wanted to give it to Jeremy, maybe drop it off for him at the diner. But why would he? Two chocolate kisses did not require a return gift. It would seem weird, like he was apologizing for turning Jeremy down on the offer to go fishing. Which he wasn’t.

On Friday, Jeremy came in the Merc and spent a long time browsing in various aisles but left without buying anything or approaching Chris at all. Chris kept finding his eyes wandering to Jeremy, like they’d been co-opted by a foreign intelligence. And Chris knew exactly from where that “intelligence” originated.

Dang, Jeremy’s legs looked long in his jeans. Chris wondered how pale they were and how fuzzy. He wondered if anyone had ever touched them before, touched Jeremy before. If he was aware of how attractive he was. If anyone had ever told him.

He hoped somebody had told him. Jeremy deserved to know.

He couldn’t wait for Saturday morning and another riding lesson.

ON
Friday, Trix let herself into the stable to check up on Eric, as she’d been doing several times a day for the past two weeks. This time she carried a thermos of iced tea and a glass.

He was whistling away and didn’t hear her. She set the items on a shelf and watched him.

To her utter surprise, Eric Crassen was a good worker. The flower beds on the road and in front of the house had been weeded and mulched, the porch was dust-free, the porch swing was polished, the riding ring and stable were cleaner than they’d been in a long time, and the horses had hay and water every time she checked. Eric was always there by eight, and she’d never smelled anything on him but honest sweat. Not even cigarettes.

Eric seemed to like the stable especially. Most people hated mucking out stalls. Besides the obvious, it was backbreaking work. But Eric didn’t seem to mind it. Just now he was brushing down Triumph with a sure, firm hand and whistling a tune. Triumph, Trix’s prize-winning stud Quarter Horse, had his head turned a little and his ears perked up as though he were listening to Eric’s song.

For a second, Trix had a strange déjà vu. It was like John was back, and he was standing there brushing Triumph. Something in Eric’s broad shoulders, in the curve of his lower back, butt, and hips….

The sensation was so strong, a chill ran down Trix’s spine, and she closed her eyes, swallowed a cry.

“You all right?”

Trix opened her eyes and found Eric watching her. He put down the hand brush and let himself out of Triumph’s stall. Triumph nickered, none too happy to have his pampering interrupted.

“What’s wrong?” He walked up to her, face concerned. Trix felt stupid and also a little annoyed. He was being so nice. It had to be phony.