prairie, flower-dotted foothills, and distant looming mountains. The people were friendly, the pace soothingly low key. She might as well be a million miles from New York, from the studio and the pressure-cooker of Francesca Dellagio Designs.
And from a dead body in Brooklyn.
Besides, no one there could possibly have followed her here.
So . . . she was safe. She must be safe, she told herself.
But she’d had a nightmare about Archie last night. Seen him again, the way he’d looked on that bloody floor, lying so still, his eyes closed. Closed forever.
When she’d jerked awake in the indigo darkness of her unfamiliar rented apartment, she’d been gasping for breath.
But now, as she emerged from the library into brilliant Wyoming sunshine and a sky bluer than an orchid, nightmares and danger and dead men seemed far away. It was daylight and the air was perfumed with the scent of pine and larkspur, wafting down on breezes fresh off the Laramie Mountains, and everywhere she looked was open land, endless and beautiful—full of nature’s peace.
She backed the Blazer up, turned around, and headed toward Bessie’s Diner.
As she drew nearer to town, though, it became more difficult to hang on to that precious sense of calm.
Knowing she might meet Ada Scott any moment set her heart tripping faster in her chest.
Ada was supposed to be back today, but that didn’t mean she’d come right into work. Or that her flight hadn’t been delayed. Or that she hadn’t decided to stay in Las Vegas another few days.
She knew she was preparing herself for disappointment, bracing herself for it. But she was also trying to keep herself calm.
She was twenty-seven years old and she’d managed to live without a grandmother this long, she told herself. She might never even tell Ada Scott about their relationship at all. When the time came, she might not even choose to speak more than a casual hello to the woman. Still, as she parked the Blazer down the street and headed toward the diner, her stomach twitched—and it wasn’t from hunger.
The diner was packed. Every booth taken. And three people were in front of her in line, all of them cowboys.
Then she saw Chance Roper, sitting in one of the front booths, only a few feet away, drinking coffee. Roberta was bopping from table to table. And . . .
Josy frowned as she caught sight of Ty Barclay at a table. There was a plate of eggs and sausage in front of him, but he was ignoring the food, engrossed in a conversation with Roy Hewett.
“Hey, Josy!” Chance grinned at her. “I hate to see a pretty lady waiting in line. Come have a seat.”
The cowboys in front of her all turned and stared at her, grinning.
“Forget about him, ma’am, you can sit with us if you like,” one offered, his brown eyes dancing.
“You don’t want to sit with them. You don’t even know them and believe me you don’t want to,” Chance shot back, laughing.
“And what makes you think she wants to know you?” a feisty female voice interjected.
Out of nowhere a small, gray-haired dynamo of a woman appeared at Chance’s table, refilling his coffee cup with practiced ease and sweeping away his plate, fork, and knife.
“Hell, Bessie, why aren’t you on my side? Aren’t I your best customer?”
“One of my best,” the woman acknowledged. Her eyes danced. “And certainly the biggest flirt. If you want to sit with him, go right ahead,” she told Josy with a nod. “Course it’s at your own risk. Otherwise, it’ll be about ten more minutes until these tables clear and these cowboys get taken care of.”
“I guess I can handle him all right. Especially if I get coffee right away.” She sent Bessie a hopeful smile.
“Coming right up,” Bessie promised, and bustled toward the kitchen as Josy scooted ahead of the line, slipping into a seat across from Chance who beamed with triumph, while the cowboys in line behind her playfully booed.
“I see you have a reputation in this town.”
He held
And from a dead body in Brooklyn.
Besides, no one there could possibly have followed her here.
So . . . she was safe. She must be safe, she told herself.
But she’d had a nightmare about Archie last night. Seen him again, the way he’d looked on that bloody floor, lying so still, his eyes closed. Closed forever.
When she’d jerked awake in the indigo darkness of her unfamiliar rented apartment, she’d been gasping for breath.
But now, as she emerged from the library into brilliant Wyoming sunshine and a sky bluer than an orchid, nightmares and danger and dead men seemed far away. It was daylight and the air was perfumed with the scent of pine and larkspur, wafting down on breezes fresh off the Laramie Mountains, and everywhere she looked was open land, endless and beautiful—full of nature’s peace.
She backed the Blazer up, turned around, and headed toward Bessie’s Diner.
As she drew nearer to town, though, it became more difficult to hang on to that precious sense of calm.
Knowing she might meet Ada Scott any moment set her heart tripping faster in her chest.
Ada was supposed to be back today, but that didn’t mean she’d come right into work. Or that her flight hadn’t been delayed. Or that she hadn’t decided to stay in Las Vegas another few days.
She knew she was preparing herself for disappointment, bracing herself for it. But she was also trying to keep herself calm.
She was twenty-seven years old and she’d managed to live without a grandmother this long, she told herself. She might never even tell Ada Scott about their relationship at all. When the time came, she might not even choose to speak more than a casual hello to the woman. Still, as she parked the Blazer down the street and headed toward the diner, her stomach twitched—and it wasn’t from hunger.
The diner was packed. Every booth taken. And three people were in front of her in line, all of them cowboys.
Then she saw Chance Roper, sitting in one of the front booths, only a few feet away, drinking coffee. Roberta was bopping from table to table. And . . .
Josy frowned as she caught sight of Ty Barclay at a table. There was a plate of eggs and sausage in front of him, but he was ignoring the food, engrossed in a conversation with Roy Hewett.
“Hey, Josy!” Chance grinned at her. “I hate to see a pretty lady waiting in line. Come have a seat.”
The cowboys in front of her all turned and stared at her, grinning.
“Forget about him, ma’am, you can sit with us if you like,” one offered, his brown eyes dancing.
“You don’t want to sit with them. You don’t even know them and believe me you don’t want to,” Chance shot back, laughing.
“And what makes you think she wants to know you?” a feisty female voice interjected.
Out of nowhere a small, gray-haired dynamo of a woman appeared at Chance’s table, refilling his coffee cup with practiced ease and sweeping away his plate, fork, and knife.
“Hell, Bessie, why aren’t you on my side? Aren’t I your best customer?”
“One of my best,” the woman acknowledged. Her eyes danced. “And certainly the biggest flirt. If you want to sit with him, go right ahead,” she told Josy with a nod. “Course it’s at your own risk. Otherwise, it’ll be about ten more minutes until these tables clear and these cowboys get taken care of.”
“I guess I can handle him all right. Especially if I get coffee right away.” She sent Bessie a hopeful smile.
“Coming right up,” Bessie promised, and bustled toward the kitchen as Josy scooted ahead of the line, slipping into a seat across from Chance who beamed with triumph, while the cowboys in line behind her playfully booed.
“I see you have a reputation in this town.”
He held
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