Town Square, The by Ava Miles Page B

he escorted her through the tavern. None of the other patrons had left their tables, toddling over more than one cup of coffee. No doubt about it—they’d stayed to see if Dare’s own Arthur Hale was under the lure of the mysterious city–spun outsider. Many wouldn’t be happy about that.
    Like he cared.
    And wasn’t that putting the cart before the horse?
    He drove Harriet to Hawk’s Point Bluff since the moon was nearly full, and he didn’t want to take her home just yet. Even though it was cold, he asked her if she wanted to walk down the snowy path with him.
    “I will if you make sure I don’t fall,” she replied.
    He promised he wouldn’t, hoping she realized he was also making a promise to be there for her.
    With his arm around her, they walked the six yards to the edge of the bluff. The moon illuminated the snowy blanket covering the earth. The pine trees cascading up the side of the mountain waved darkly in the breeze.
    He turned to her then, and the moonlight covered her face, starkly illuminating the angles of her cheekbones, which called out to be traced by his fingertips.
    “Harriet,” he murmured, caressing her delicate skin.
    “Hush,” she whispered and stepped closer.
    He kissed her in the moonlight and let the moment be enough.

Chapter 11
    W orking with Arthur during the day and then going to dinner with him most evenings provided an ongoing opportunity for Harriet to discover that there was so much more to him than she’d first imagined.
    As the weeks passed, winter still clung to the trees in the form of snow and ice, and the breeze felt like it was issuing from an automatic fan over a block of ice. According to the people she talked to at the market and the Five–and–Dime, the groundhog had seen its shadow, and sure enough, spring felt like a distant memory.
    Arthur made the most of it on one Saturday in early March, agreeing for once not to work all day at the office. They were having an outdoor date since they’d already seen the new movie that had arrived in Dare, Frank Capra’s Pocketful of Miracles with Betty Davis and Glenn Ford, which would be showing for the next month.
    Their staff was growing, and Arthur was busy training the new hires and planning for the launch of the paper. They had five reporters now, Arthur’s deputy, an advertising manager, a bookkeeper, a financial manager, a typesetter, and the head of distribution. The new printing press had arrived, along with the large news rolls and tubs of ink, and had been assembled in the old factory. Arthur and the typesetter were getting familiar with its quirks by doing dry runs. And the distribution manager, with Arthur’s guidance, had been working out the best routes to get the papers out to Denver and other major cities. High school students in Dare had been hired to go door–to–door to ask for local subscriptions.
    Arthur had also been making visits to Denver, Las Vegas, and San Francisco, talking with the bigger newspapers, hoping to run articles from The Western Independent , including his Sunday editorials, in theirs from time to time. With Emmits’ connections, he was collecting national subscriptions right and left.
    “I’m not sure snow–shoeing was the smartest idea you’ve had,” she commented as her snow–shoe sunk into the powdery snow again, throwing off her balance for the hundredth time.
    He looked back over his shoulder, his blue eyes twinkling. “You only need to walk faster. If you lug through the snow, you’ll fall. You need to stay light on your feet.”
    Right. With two shoes that looked like large wooden tennis rackets secured to her feet with rawhide. Yeehaw.
    He had to outweigh her by fifty pounds, and he looked a heck of a lot lighter on his feet. It was enough to make a girl jealous.
    “This view had better be worth it,” she complained, her face and lips becoming chapped by the wind.
    “Have I steered you wrong yet?” he asked, his arms pumping as he walked across the snowy