front door of Birdie’s Room and Board.
The screen door slapped shut. The sound was soft, but it ripped through Hannah like a shotgun blast. Her knees buckled and with no grace whatsoever, she slithered to the floor and covered the racing heart in her chest with one equally trembling hand.
She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. It wasn’t just because he was the sheriff. Something else about Adam McBride, perhaps his overly handsome face, made her feel like she was standing on top of a hill during a lightning storm. His mere presence caused her heart to race so erratically she became lightheaded and breathless.
A moment later footsteps sounded off the front stairs. Hannah took a deep breath and grasped the top edge of the counter, hefting her quaking body to once again stand behind the desk. She blew the air out of her lungs as Birdie Hollingsford walked through the front door.
Layers of lace and ruffles swirled as the older woman twisted to hang her frilly bonnet on a hook near the door. “Was that Adam I saw leaving?”
Hannah pretended to make notations in the ledger. “Yes,” she said without looking up.
“Wondering about those two young men we had staying here last night, was he?” Birdie’s voice tinkled with an amused giggle.
“Yes, ma’am.” Hannah replaced the quill into the ink well.
“Has to be driving him plum crazy! Whoo hoo!” Birdie slapped the desktop with a plump hand.
Hannah frowned and snuck a peek at her boss. Birdie tugged at a few stray curls near her ears and resettled the combs in her graying hair. Green eyes twinkled with delight in her wrinkled face. The wide smile smoothed a few of the deeper lines across her cheekbones but heightened the ones around her mouth. She had to be sixty or more, and had been the definition of kindness since Hannah stepped off the stagecoach, broke and hungry, six weeks ago.
Birdie winked and moved away from the desk. “We’ll just let him fret a bit. It’ll be good for him.” Walking into the sitting parlor she added, “Give him something to do besides hide out from Abigail Christenson. That woman has him as jumpy as a den of rattlers.”
For absolutely no reason she could think of, Hannah slipped from behind the desk and checked to assure Birdie was out of sight before moving to peer out the front window. A broad back a short distance up the road quickly caught her attention.
****
“Tulips?” Adam McBride mumbled under his breath as he made his way across the street and down the boardwalk to his newly revamped office. “What’s the difference? A flower’s a flower.” He pulled his hat off and slapped it against his knee. The woman was driving him loco; had been for well over a month. And it wasn’t just because she was the prettiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. No wonder he didn’t know what kind of flower sat atop her head, with a face that pretty, the poor plants could have been dandelions.
Without missing a step, he pushed the solid door to the jailhouse open and strolled in. Nope, it wasn’t just her looks keeping him awake at night. It was the secret she hid. He could see it, right behind those Sunday-morning, sky-blue eyes. Hannah Stewart was hiding something, and as sheriff of Blue Spring, it was his job to find out what. He’d bet his best horse those two young cowpokes that spent the night at Birdie’s Boarding House last night had something to do with it as well.
He pulled the dipper from the water bucket and took a long swig, savoring the wetness. Every time he got close to her, his throat swelled up like he’d eaten a batch of poison berries. After dropping the dipper back into the bucket, he walked over to the pile of mail on his desk. Maybe he’d missed something this morning. Settling onto the hard chair, he scanned the wanted posters again.
His instincts were never wrong, and acting upon that knowledge, he’d sent telegrams across Kansas, as well as the surrounding states, inquiring
The screen door slapped shut. The sound was soft, but it ripped through Hannah like a shotgun blast. Her knees buckled and with no grace whatsoever, she slithered to the floor and covered the racing heart in her chest with one equally trembling hand.
She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. It wasn’t just because he was the sheriff. Something else about Adam McBride, perhaps his overly handsome face, made her feel like she was standing on top of a hill during a lightning storm. His mere presence caused her heart to race so erratically she became lightheaded and breathless.
A moment later footsteps sounded off the front stairs. Hannah took a deep breath and grasped the top edge of the counter, hefting her quaking body to once again stand behind the desk. She blew the air out of her lungs as Birdie Hollingsford walked through the front door.
Layers of lace and ruffles swirled as the older woman twisted to hang her frilly bonnet on a hook near the door. “Was that Adam I saw leaving?”
Hannah pretended to make notations in the ledger. “Yes,” she said without looking up.
“Wondering about those two young men we had staying here last night, was he?” Birdie’s voice tinkled with an amused giggle.
“Yes, ma’am.” Hannah replaced the quill into the ink well.
“Has to be driving him plum crazy! Whoo hoo!” Birdie slapped the desktop with a plump hand.
Hannah frowned and snuck a peek at her boss. Birdie tugged at a few stray curls near her ears and resettled the combs in her graying hair. Green eyes twinkled with delight in her wrinkled face. The wide smile smoothed a few of the deeper lines across her cheekbones but heightened the ones around her mouth. She had to be sixty or more, and had been the definition of kindness since Hannah stepped off the stagecoach, broke and hungry, six weeks ago.
Birdie winked and moved away from the desk. “We’ll just let him fret a bit. It’ll be good for him.” Walking into the sitting parlor she added, “Give him something to do besides hide out from Abigail Christenson. That woman has him as jumpy as a den of rattlers.”
For absolutely no reason she could think of, Hannah slipped from behind the desk and checked to assure Birdie was out of sight before moving to peer out the front window. A broad back a short distance up the road quickly caught her attention.
****
“Tulips?” Adam McBride mumbled under his breath as he made his way across the street and down the boardwalk to his newly revamped office. “What’s the difference? A flower’s a flower.” He pulled his hat off and slapped it against his knee. The woman was driving him loco; had been for well over a month. And it wasn’t just because she was the prettiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. No wonder he didn’t know what kind of flower sat atop her head, with a face that pretty, the poor plants could have been dandelions.
Without missing a step, he pushed the solid door to the jailhouse open and strolled in. Nope, it wasn’t just her looks keeping him awake at night. It was the secret she hid. He could see it, right behind those Sunday-morning, sky-blue eyes. Hannah Stewart was hiding something, and as sheriff of Blue Spring, it was his job to find out what. He’d bet his best horse those two young cowpokes that spent the night at Birdie’s Boarding House last night had something to do with it as well.
He pulled the dipper from the water bucket and took a long swig, savoring the wetness. Every time he got close to her, his throat swelled up like he’d eaten a batch of poison berries. After dropping the dipper back into the bucket, he walked over to the pile of mail on his desk. Maybe he’d missed something this morning. Settling onto the hard chair, he scanned the wanted posters again.
His instincts were never wrong, and acting upon that knowledge, he’d sent telegrams across Kansas, as well as the surrounding states, inquiring
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