A Town Called Valentine: A Valentine Valley Novel (5 page)

And then she sighed. A corner bar that would have once served drinks was now spattered with paint, as if someone had just tossed an open container. Every upended table and chair seemed to be missing legs. The mirror that lined one wall to make the room seem more open had giant cracks running through it, like an ancient face. And someone must have taken a sledgehammer to the walls. Even the trim and baseboards had been gouged. The security deposit they’d forfeited was miniscule compared to all this.

Emily could have cried.

But she was done crying. It had gotten her nowhere, solved none of her problems. She didn’t even know where her tenants had gone, and she could hardly afford a private investigator to find them. She could do this on her own; she’d pull out her notebook and start her lists: jobs to be done, supplies to be purchased, repairs to be made. She didn’t have the money to hire someone, so she would do it herself. With access to the Internet, she could learn how to do anything.

But first, the electricity. She placed a call, glad that her cell phone worked, when she knew reception could be spotty in the mountains. To her dismay, the power company couldn’t give her an appointment for another three days, much as she tried to explain the circumstances. They compromised on two days, but that was it. At least the days were growing longer, so she could work when the sun was up.

She took out her notebook and spent an hour cataloging the damages and making her to-do lists. After discovering a Dumpster in the back alley, she began dragging out the worst of the garbage, trying to clear a path from the front of the restaurant to the kitchen. She was so engrossed in her chores, she didn’t hear the front door open until a dog’s bark alerted her.

She whirled around in surprise and saw Nate Thalberg grimacing as he looked about, and Scout, off leash, nosing into a pile of garbage. Nate’s cowboy clothes had been replaced with loose shorts, sneakers, and a t-shirt that outlined his biceps as he held the door open. She could berate herself for the previous night, but damn, she couldn’t fault her choice of men. Yet he’d seen her at her worst, offering herself to him in a way she’d never done with any man before. And he’d accepted it all, as if he was used to women throwing themselves at him. He made her feel flustered even though she was sober. She’d never been nervous around people, always the gracious host and volunteer. But with him, she didn’t know how to behave or what to say.

Stiffening, she tried to think about being polite and neutral, hoping he’d leave. She looked a mess after all, sweaty, disheveled, and covered in dust and dirt. But then his eyes locked on her, and suddenly she was back in the bar, his mouth on hers, his hands making her feel like a woman once again.

Chapter Four

N
ate hadn’t thought the destruction in the old restaurant could look any worse in the daylight, but he’d been wrong. It was as if a demon had been set loose. He was tempted to haul Scout back by the collar. But there was Emily, wide-eyed and lovely, the dirt streaking her face evidence of the work she’d already put in that morning.

And there was that thin t-shirt, clinging to her damply.

Emily lifted a hand before he could speak. “You don’t need to remind me. I promise to be out of your grandmother’s hair quickly. Now you can go on and”—she tilted her head and spotted his mountain bike leaning against the front of the building, helmet dangling from the handle—“ride your bike, knowing you’ve put the fear of God into me. Is this how cowboys get around in the mountains now?”

He frowned. “Grandma likes to meet new people. She called me right after you left to say you’d been
so sweet
to them. Hard to believe right now.”

He hadn’t meant to antagonize her, especially since he felt uncomfortable about all the work she had in store for herself. But from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, she’d drawn him like steel to a magnet, and he knew he had to pull away. Her building wasn’t his problem—
she
wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself.

Her chin came up, and those sky blue eyes glittered. “Your grandmother is a lovely person.”

Unlike you,
seemed to be her unspoken words.

“And I am grateful to her for agreeing to let me
briefly
stay there,” she continued. “I have offered to pay rent.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You think I haven’t?” she asked icily.

He held up a placating hand. “No, I just know my grandmother. Taking care of you will make her day.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

He said nothing, hoping that was true.

She put her hands on her hips. “Did you just come by to annoy me or to watch me work and have a good laugh at my expense?”

“I haven’t laughed,” he said. She was touchy, but he couldn’t blame her. This was damn awkward between them.

“So you meant to annoy. Why are you checking up on me? Here are the details, if you absolutely need them. My building is a disaster that will take weeks to repair and keep me here even longer. They can’t turn the electricity on for two days, so my hours are limited, further lengthening my time in Valentine Valley. Oh—and my car needs to be towed. Does that satisfy all your questions?”

Nothing the two of them said to each other was going to work after their abrupt encounter last night. “Look,” he said with a sigh, “I didn’t come to check up on you. I just wanted to tell you I had your car towed to Ute Auto Repair, which is at the gas station at the end of Main Street back by the highway. They’ll give you an estimate. You can trust them.”

He was at least gratified to see her hostile expression turn wide-eyed before she winced at his news about her car.

“Let me get my purse and pay you for the towing. I don’t want to owe you after last night.”

“Owe me?” he said in disbelief. “You think I’ll hold that little bit of money over your head to get something out of you?”

She looked so mutinous, he knew he’d hit the nail on the head. And he deserved her suspicion.

“Look, I’m sorry about everything. I’ve got to go ride my little bike up into those tall mountains and try not to slide on my face in the springtime mud. But you have a pleasant day.”

Then he turned around and strode out the door, whistling for Scout.

Emily clapped both hands over her face, wondering how many times her own behavior could mortify her. He’d done her another favor, on top of all the others. This, after he’d been so angry that she’d turned him down last night. She must be giving off a very needy vibe. She didn’t want to be that woman!

Or had he simply been drunk and angry, just like she’d been drunk and a tease? She didn’t want to contemplate that, didn’t want to think too nicely about him. She wasn’t in Valentine Valley to make friends with men.

“Hello?”

Emily gasped and stumbled over a broken chair.

“I’m so sorry!”

Emily looked up to see a pretty, young, black woman with shoulder-length curls framing her elegant face like sunbeams. With her high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes, she could have been a model. Instead, she was dressed casually in capris, sandals, and a sleeveless blouse, as if she was anticipating summer to arrive momentarily.

The woman reached toward her as Emily stumbled over another chair. “Can I help you?”

Emily pushed the chair aside. “Only if you want to get filthy.”

The woman grinned. “I wouldn’t mind a little dirt for a good cause. But what I really want to do is meet the person who put that thundercloud on Nate Thalberg’s face.”

Emily felt her cheeks heat up. “It wasn’t exactly intentional, but I can’t seem to help it. We . . . don’t get along.” She sighed. “I’m Emily Murphy.”

“Monica Shaw. I own the flower shop next door.”

“Monica’s Flowers and Gifts. I thought your window displays looked adorable, all decorated for spring. The crocheted flower baby caps were an inspired idea.” And had made her positively ache, remembering her own baby’s kicks, the way she’d held her belly between both hands, as if she were already trying to protect the little girl. But she hadn’t been able to protect her from whatever whims of fate had chosen to curse Emily. And there would never be another baby inside her. After a shaky start, Emily was dealing with it the best way she could.

“The crafts are part of the ‘and Gifts,’ ” Monica continued. “Tourists are really into the romance thing in Valentine Valley, and babies are a natural result. I take in local craft products on a consignment basis.”

“Another inspired idea,” Emily said, stepping over junk on the floor to approach the other woman. Though she had work to do, she wouldn’t rudely ask the woman to leave.

“They sell,” Monica said with a smile and a shrug. “My craft partners and I all end up happy. Wedding-bed quilts are my number one selling item—after my flowers,” she added self-deprecatingly.

“I only just arrived last night, so I haven’t had a chance to wander around. Guess wedding items make sense for tourists in Valentine.”

“Oh, you have no idea. We’re sort of famous around here for romance. Many a love affair has blossomed here. Haven’t you seen all the lovers holding hands?”

“I did notice a few.”

“And the proposals? Girl, I swear there’s one every other day at the gazebo, or the stone bridge in the Rose Garden. The demand for Valentine Valley postmarks on wedding invitations keeps our post office overworked. And luckily, they always want flowers. I’m not complaining, you understand.”

“I understand.” Emily reluctantly smiled, feeling more and more lured in by Monica’s cheerfulness.

“So you only arrived in town last night?”

Emily explained her plans to sell the building.

Monica looked around sympathetically. “Those people were assholes, and I didn’t need to see this disaster to know that. They had flower arrangements for their tables shipped in from
Aspen
! Like I can’t get flowers just as good thirty miles down the road. More expensive in Aspen, that’s for certain. No wonder they went under.”

Emily didn’t mention the slight increase in the rent.

“Sorry to see you have all this work ahead of you,” Monica said. “Are you hiring help?”

Emily hesitated. “Not right now.”

If Monica grasped Emily’s financial predicament, she didn’t give any indication of pity, which Emily appreciated.

“You’ll do a fine job of it,” Monica continued.

“You can tell that already?” Emily sarcastically spread her hands wide, indicating the state of the building.

“Come on, let’s sit outside. My break is almost over, and I want to enjoy the sun.”

Emily knew she shouldn’t, but her back was aching, along with her feet, so she followed Monica outside. There were wrought-iron benches beneath the plate-glass windows on either side of the front door, perhaps meant for customers waiting for a table. Emily sat down beside Monica, stretched out her legs with a sigh, and lifted her face for the sun’s warmth.

“So how do Nate and his bad mood come into this?” Monica asked.

Emily glanced at the woman, noticing her amusement, praying that the story of her conduct hadn’t spread beyond the tavern. She didn’t want to discuss her business with a stranger but found the words tumbling tiredly from her lips. “I stopped for a meal at Tony’s Tavern when I got in late last night. Then my car wouldn’t start. Tony vouched for Nate, who offered me a lift. I tried to go to a motel—”

“With Nate?” Monica interrupted, then clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“No!” Emily said too fervently, praying she hadn’t started a new rumor. “Just me. But he insisted on taking me to the Widows’ Boardinghouse, where there’s an extra room.”

Monica grinned. “You know that’s practically a senior living home.”

“I do,” Emily said. “But they were very kind to me, and since they knew my grandmother, they’re insisting I remain there while I’m in Valentine. But once the upstairs apartment is ready, I’ll be moving in here.”

“Your family is from here?”

Emily briefly explained about her grandparents owning the building and her mother leaving right out of high school. “Once my grandmother died, we never came back. I don’t remember much at all about the town.” She refixed her ponytail in anticipation of returning to work. “So anyway, that’s my only connection to Nate. Now I should get back inside—” She started to rise.

Monica whistled. “He’s some kind of man.”

Sitting back down, Emily willed herself not to blush and tried to find a noncommittal response. “Is he?” She sounded a little too sarcastic.

Monica’s focus on her sharpened, but she only said, “Every girl in town has been after him at one time or another. There aren’t many who catch him, and when they do, it’s brief and fun and over.”

“Including you?” Emily pressed, unable to help herself.

“No way. Sadly, I got brother vibes from him the moment I was old enough to notice my own brother’s friends.”

Emily couldn’t help smiling, even as she told herself to leave. But the sun’s warmth seemed at last to be settling in her bones, and being with Monica was strangely relaxing. In San Francisco, she’d been so wrapped up in Greg that she’d never made time for girlfriends. Her college friends had been too busy being single and pursuing school, making it hard for them to understand the choice she’d made to marry. Greg didn’t have time to go out “with the girls,” and her excuses soon no longer were necessary. At the time, she thought she’d been making the right decision to let her friends go, so that they wouldn’t feel guilty when they attempted to reach out. But she’d made a terrible mistake. A woman didn’t need just a husband, she needed friends, people to rely on or to comfort in turn. And she’d foolishly taken those friendships for granted. It made her almost wistful for what she’d missed. Not that she’d be here long enough to make friends.

On the sidewalks, the tourists had multiplied in the last few hours, and she now paid attention to the couples since Monica had pointed it out. Valentine Valley had its own specialty theme just from the name.

Emily almost groaned as she turned her feet in little circles, stretching her aching ankles. “All those people in love must flock to your store to buy flowers.”

“They do,” Monica said with an exaggerated sigh, then grinned. “And I love it. Hey—have you had lunch yet?”

“No, I haven’t. Perhaps you can recommend a casual place.” A cheap place. There must be a grocery store someplace close to buy sandwich fixings.

“We’ll do lunch one of these days, I promise, but I can’t go out today. I’m manning the store alone.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” She couldn’t start doing lunch, but at least that was an excuse to get back to work. “Here I’ve kept you away.”

“Trust me, I’ve had my eye on the store the whole time. No customers at the moment. They’re probably all eating lunch. Care to join me?”

Emily opened her mouth, not wanting to be rude, but not knowing how to escape the kind offer. “Oh, but you only made enough for yourself. That would be a terrible imposition.”

“Nah, I made a big salad, and I always keep cheese sticks and almonds in the store for emergency snacks.”

“Oh, but here comes a customer,” Emily said with relief. It would be too easy to get caught up with someone as friendly as Monica.

Monica turned her head and saw the hassled-looking young man enter her store. “I’ll take care of him, then bring out lunch. The day is too beautiful to waste.”

Emily was about to object, then had a change of heart. What was the point of being rude? She had to eat, didn’t she? She forced each muscle to relax one at a time after the stress of the last few days. When Monica returned, they spread out the feast between them and began to eat.

“So why are you working alone today?” Emily asked, after pouring ranch dressing across the top of her salad. “Surely you’re busy this time of year.”