True Love at Silver Creek Ranch by Emma Cane Page A

you’re home early! How was your day, you dear boy?”
    He gestured absently toward the window. “Stormy. But I haven’t met your friend.”
    He looked pointedly at Sylvester, who lifted his chin defensively, then stuck out his hand. “Sylvester Galimi,” he said, “owner of the True Grits Diner.”
    Adam shook his hand. “Adam Desantis.”
    â€œStaff Sergeant Adam Desantis,” Grandma Palmer said with pride.
    â€œNot anymore, Grandma,” he said without breaking eye contact. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Galimi?”
    â€œYour grandmother and I have a disagreement.”
    Adam’s glance took in the other two women. “And you all came to discuss it together?”
    â€œOh, no, Cathy and Gloria are here to have their cards read. I told you about my little once-a-week business.” She grinned at the two women. “Adam, Cathy Fletcher is the church secretary at St. John’s and she used to be best friends with Emily’s late mom. Gloria Valik is Monica’s aunt and Nate’s secretary. Have you two met yet?”
    Adam nodded politely at the women, who looked him over without bothering to hide their interest.
    â€œNo, we haven’t met,” Gloria said. She had a darker complexion than her niece and the same wide, cheerful smile. “I work about nine to three, and this hardworking cowboy is there before me and long after. Guess I’ll have to skip bringing my own lunch and eat with you, Adam, so we can get to know each other.”
    He nodded again, but his focus was still on Sylvester, who must have checked his watch twice while Gloria was speaking.
    â€œMr. Galimi, what’s your disagreement with my grandmother?” Adam asked. “Did the cards say something you didn’t want to hear?”
    Smiling, both Cathy and Gloria turned to Sylvester with interest.
    The man cleared his throat. “I did not come for this mystical nonsense.”
    Gloria gave him a sniff of disdain.
    â€œNow, Sylvester,” Grandma Palmer said, “there’s no call to go offendin’ me or my friends. Adam, Sylvester here is upset that the preservation-fund committee is supportin’ a new, woman-owned business that’s thinkin’ of openin’ a store in town. We’ve offered them a grant if they renovate a buildin’ that’s seen some hard times.”
    Adam narrowed his eyes. “And why would this upset you, Mr. Galimi, enough that you’d raise your voice to my grandmother?”
    Grandma Palmer waved both hands in front of her, then caught her cane before it could fall. “That’s just his way. You pay him no mind, Adam.”
    â€œThere’s just no call for that . . . sort of business,” Sylvester blustered. “I wanted her to know that I’m not the only businessman who will stand against the committee at the next town-council meeting.”
    Though he didn’t want to get involved, Adam couldn’t help asking, “What sort of business?”
    â€œSmut!” Sylvester erupted with indignation. “That’s the sort of business your grandma is condoning!”
    Grandma Palmer’s once-booming laugh was now a weak chuckle. “Oh, Sylvester, have you even bothered to look at Leather and Lace’s website? They sell pretty lingerie, and a town called Valentine Valley surely needs honeymoon clothes.”
    Leather and Lace? Adam thought, suddenly finding himself wanting to grin. But those muscles were still stiff with disuse. “That’s an interesting name for a store.”
    â€œInteresting?” Sylvester barked. “Guess you haven’t looked at the website either.”
    â€œMy daughter has visited their store in San Francisco,” Cathy Fletcher chimed in. “She brought me a lovely nightgown.”
    â€œThere’s more than nightgowns,” Sylvester insisted, fists on his hips. “There are things our