Currant Creek Valley (5 page)

Very few people called her
Alexandra
anymore. In school, all her teachers had used the full version of her name, as well as the principal, with whom she had been entirely too well acquainted.

Then later Marco had also used her given name, during their time together. In his heavily accented English, her name had sounded exotic and extravagant.

To everyone else, from her family to her wide circle of friends to the men she dated, she had been just plain
Alex
as long as she could remember, though her mother still sometimes went for Alexandra Renee when she was exasperated with her.

She liked the way Sam said her name and decided not to correct him.

Cooking was who she was, what she did, so it took her a moment to figure out how to answer him.

“I like to cross-country ski and snowboard,” she finally said. “I just bought my first house a few months ago and I’ve been fixing it up the way I like it. Nothing of the scale you do, of course, just new paint, furniture, that kind of thing.”

“What about in the summer?”

Did he really want to know about her or was he simply being polite, laying the groundwork for what he hoped might eventually be a seduction? It was always a hard call on a first date. Not that this was a date, she reminded herself firmly.

“I hike. Mountain bike. Garden. Hang out with my family and friends.”

“Your family lives close, then?”

“Just about all of them. I come from a pretty big family. Six kids. My mother and four of us children still live here in Hope’s Crossing. Two of my sisters live out of state, one in California and one in Utah.”

“Wow. Six kids. Seriously? That must have been crazy. I can’t even imagine having that kind of family.”

“It has its moments. Some bad but most of them good. We McKnights are all pretty close. Amazingly, we all get along. Except Riley, the only brother. He can still be a pest sometimes. It doesn’t help that now he’s a pest with a badge.”

“Right. You mentioned he was the police chief.”

It took her a minute to remember she had threatened him with calling her brother when she thought Sam was breaking into the restaurant the day before. Heat soaked her cheeks and she really hoped she wasn’t blushing. She never blushed.

“What about you?” she asked, to distract him from remembering what an idiot she had been. “Do you come from a big family?”

“One brother, that’s it. He lives in Denver with his wife and kids. That’s where my s...” His voice trailed off. “My stuff is. I’m between places.”

She had the distinct impression he meant to say something else. What? She had a zero-tolerance policy for deception in a man.

“So how long have you been out of the Rangers?”

“Three years.”

Now,
there
was a verbose answer. Did his clipped tone indicate a hot button?

“What did you do for the Rangers?”

He took another bite of the burger and a drink of beer before answering. “Oh, the usual. Kick butt, take names, general mayhem.”

He spoke in that same clipped tone, but she saw a little muscle quirk at the edge of his mouth as if he were working to hold back a smile.

She really liked Sam Delgado.

Too bad.

“General mayhem, hmm. I imagine building my kitchen must seem fairly tame to a guy like you, then.”

“Not really. You’d be surprised how satisfying it can be to set those stainless-steel countertops exactly how the customer, in this case
you,
envisioned.”

No trace of sarcasm or irony there. He was dead serious, she realized. She very much respected a man who enjoyed his work.

“Why did you leave the Rangers?” she persisted. The routes people took in their lives to bring them to a certain point in time endlessly fascinated her.

“Didn’t really have a choice at the time.” Again, the clipped tone.

“Conscientious objector or dishonorable discharge?”

He laughed roughly. “Anybody ever tell you you’ve got some cheek?”

“So my family says.” She had always been the sassy, smart-mouthed sister. Since she didn’t feel as if she could compete in looks or brains with four older sisters, she had found her own way to stand out.

After their father left, that had been one more way to manage the pain.

“So why
did
you leave the Rangers? Judging by your ink, you were a loyal soldier. I figure somebody who cares enough about a particular branch of the military to make it a permanent part of his body ought to stick with it as long as he can.”

He sighed. “You’re not going to let up, are you?”

“Would you like me to?”

He gave her a long look and appeared to be choosing his words as carefully as she picked over the fresh fish selection from her suppliers.

“I left the Rangers after my wife was diagnosed with stage-four breast cancer.”

And
there
was the problem with being a smart-mouth. Sometimes you missed important signals and ended up feeling like a jerk.

She remembered him telling her the only Mrs. Delgado was his brother’s wife. She believed him, so either his wife had gone into remission and divorced him or she had lost her battle. Alex was afraid it was the latter.

“I’m sorry.”

He shoved away from the table, long fingers loosely clasped around the neck of his brew. “That was delicious. Let’s go play some pool.”

He obviously didn’t want to talk about his late wife. It was one thing to flirt with a player who had no more interest in anything long-term than she did. It was something else entirely when the man was a grieving widower whose pain was so raw he couldn’t even talk about it.

She grabbed her mineral water and followed him to an empty pool table. The Lizard had four billiard tables, two of them currently in use.

To reach the table where Sam was now setting up, she had to pass a group of college-age guys—mountain biking tourists, if she had to guess. With them was one woman wearing a skintight pair of pegged jeans and a white halter top that was completely inappropriate for a Rocky Mountain spring night.

She laughed suddenly, overloud and overfriendly, and playfully punched one of the young studs on the shoulder.

Only when Alex had nearly reached Sam’s table did she happen to glance at the woman from an angle where she could see her face, and a shock of recognition just about made her stumble.

Of all the people in town she might have expected to find flirting and half-drunk at The Speckled Lizard, Genevieve Beaumont would have come in dead last. Even behind Katherine Thorne.

“Hey, Genevieve.”

The younger woman shifted her gaze, and her eyes widened. “Alex.” She gave a noticeable sniff and turned back to her boy toys.

Bitch.

On some level she had sympathy for Gen Beaumont, who had been through some definite emotional turmoil the past year. She also would freely admit to a healthy degree of respect for at least one of Gen’s decisions to break off her engagement a year ago when she found out her fiancé impregnated Alex’s niece Sage.

But Gen had taken her anger at her fiancé and turned it into definite antipathy toward all things McKnight, as if the whole family was responsible for the man’s decision to screw around with a vulnerable young woman.

Sage was doing well now, busy at school studying to be an architect like her father, Jack, but Alex had deep sympathy for what she had endured with her unexpected pregnancy. She had planned to put the baby up for adoption but, in the end, Maura and Jack had adopted the baby and were raising Henry as their own son instead of their grandson. On the surface, it might look as if everything had worked out for all parties concerned. That pretty picture tended to gloss over all the complicated snarls of emotions.

She pushed away her family dramas and any concern for Genevieve Beaumont and the old tendrils of pain, and grabbed a cue off the rack on the wall.

“You want to break?” Sam asked her.

“Sure. I’ll warn you, I haven’t played in a long time. I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you much of a game.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty rusty, too.”

An hour and three games later, he won two out of three, but just barely.

“Not much of a game.” He snorted. “I haven’t had to work that hard for a win since basic training, when I came up against a guy who hustled new recruits for fun.”

She smiled. “We had a pool table in the basement when I was growing up. My dad, brother and I used to play for matchsticks. At last count, I think Riley owed me about eight hundred thousand. One of these days, I might have to collect.”

“Why do I feel like I’ve just been scammed?”

She smiled. “You won, didn’t you?”

“Barely.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I hadn’t played in a while. But I guess it’s like so many other things. Once you take those first strokes, it all comes flowing back.”

He cleared his throat and she couldn’t hold in a smile at the sudden glazed look in his eyes. Was he, like her, thinking about something else completely? “Do you want to go for best of five?”

A loud burst of laughter from Genevieve’s group drew both their attention. While she and Sam had been playing, a couple others had joined Gen’s crowd. On the other occupied table, two rough-edged guys were arguing heatedly about a move. A couple danced nearby to an up-tempo country song playing on the jukebox.

Sometimes the loud, hard-partying scene at The Speckled Lizard grated on her nerves, especially after a long night at the restaurant. The only problem was, during the off-season, the after-hours nightlife in Hope’s Crossing was basically nonexistent, other than a few fast-food joints that stayed open 24/7.

She could always call it a night but she selfishly didn’t want to. She liked Sam. The way he moved, the way he smelled, the way he played pool. It had been a long time since she had met someone so intriguing.

“How do you feel about taking a little walk?” she asked on impulse.

He blinked at her, cue in hand. “Now? It’s past eleven. The whole town is closed down, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Why not? It’s a beautiful evening. These kind of mild spring nights are something of a miracle here in the high mountains.”

Don’t say no,
she thought. The idea of going back to her house by herself tonight depressed her more than it should. Not that she had any intention of taking Sam there, but she definitely wanted to spend a little more time with him. This was a nice compromise.

“We don’t have to,” she added. “I only thought maybe you might like a quick guided tour of Hope’s Crossing, being new in town and all.”

He leaned a hip against the edge of the pool table, all those rangy ex-army muscles in delectable view.

Maybe inviting him out for a walk wasn’t the smartest idea she’d ever had, when she had to keep reminding herself he was the contractor at the restaurant and she couldn’t afford to mess things up now that her dream was within reach.

“A walk could be...interesting.”

“Great. Let’s go.” She ignored the flurry of nerves in her stomach as they hung up the cues and settled their tab with Pat at the bar.

He helped her into her jacket and then pulled on his own—a soft, thin leather jacket that made her think of motorcycles and bad boys—and then they walked out into the sweetly scented spring night.

CHAPTER FOUR

T
HE
NIGHT
WAS
RELATIVELY
WARM
for mid-April with a southerly breeze that smelled moist and earthy. She wouldn’t be surprised if Hope’s Crossing saw rain before daybreak, the kind of sweet and cleansing storm that blew through quickly and left everything fresh and clean, saturated with color.

She loved walking on these kinds of nights, when the rest of the world seemed huddled in for the dark hours but she was alone with the rustling music of the breeze in new leaves.

Except this time she wasn’t alone. She was accompanied by a big, tough-looking man who had secrets she hadn’t begun to guess.

“Let’s walk up to the fire station and I’ll give you the high points of Main Street along the way.”

“You’re the tour guide.” He flashed a lopsided smile, looking sexy and almost rakish, and she had to remind her hormones to settle down.

She adopted a deliberately casual tone, her best officious voice. Maybe if the restaurant thing didn’t work out, she could get a job at the tourist welcome center. “You probably already know this but Hope’s Crossing was once a wild and woolly mining town, with more brothels and saloons than houses.”

“I’d heard that, yes. Tell me this. Don’t you think it’s odd that even with that sort of start, the town was still named a sweet, flowery name like Hope’s Crossing instead of, oh, I don’t know. Something like Hell’s Armpit.”

She laughed. “While both names are equally appealing, of course, I’m guessing Hope’s Crossing might be a bit more of a tourist draw than anything with the word
armpit
in it. But what do I know?”

His smile gleamed in the night and she fought down another shiver of awareness.

“My friend Claire is a lot better at recounting history, but from what I understand, the miners originally called the town Silver Strike after the first mine to produce anything worthwhile up in the canyon. One of the mine owners, Silas Van Duran, happened to fall in love with the only schoolteacher in town, a woman named Hope Goodwin. When it came time to officially name the town, he insisted on Hope’s Crossing. Since he had the money, I guess, he also had the power to push through what he wanted.”

“A little on the cheesy side, don’t you think? Most women I know would prefer a share in the silver mine instead of the rather dubious privilege of having a town named for them.”

“Aren’t you cynical? You’re not a romantic, then. Good to know.”

“Hey, I can be romantic when the mood strikes.”

“You do know there’s a difference between romantic and horny, right?”

He laughed and warmth sizzled through her. He had a really sexy laugh, low and full-throated, with just a hint of surprise to it, as if he didn’t do it that often. She wanted him to do it again.

“I’ve heard that, yes,” he said. “Thanks for the reminder. Though in my experience, they’re not mutually exclusive emotions.”

She was really going to have to settle down here. She drew in a breath and forced herself to return to tour-guide mood as they walked past her favorite boutique.

When they passed String Fever, she paused in front of the lighted display, a combination of ready-made items and a brilliant scatter of loose beads.

“Ooh, looks like Claire is carrying a new line of hand-painted beads. She didn’t tell me. The woman is evil. I spend half my paycheck inside String Fever.”

He gazed at the necklace that had caught her attention and then back at her. “Somehow I wouldn’t have pegged you for a crafter.”

“Beading is an art form and I’ve got serious skills. I made this.” She pulled out the hammered-silver necklace. He had obviously once been someone’s husband because he was smart enough to dutifully admire it.

“Nice.”

“I know,” she said smugly. “And it’s not even my best work. Claire, the owner, has been my BFF since we were in first grade. She’s actually married to my brother now. They’re having a baby in a few months.”

Why was she compelled to add that last part? She wasn’t quite sure. Her own emotions about Riley and Claire combining DNA to bring a new life into the world were as tangled as her jewelry drawer.

She had mostly come to terms with the fact that her best friend and the person she still considered her pesky little brother were head-over-heels crazy about each other. She would never tell either of them this, but she even thought it was kind of sweet the way they couldn’t seem to keep their gazes off each other in a crowd, the way they touched whenever they were close, the happiness that just seemed to surround the two of them like a big, puffy cloud.

Even so, it still sometimes freaked her out.

Then there was the issue of the upcoming birth, something that left her both thrilled for them and aching for...something.

Throw in her mother’s relationship with Harry Lange and she was probably due for some serious therapy anytime now.

She didn’t want to talk about any of it. What she really wanted to do was kiss this big, sexy construction foreman. Too bad things were so complicated.

“This is the Center of Hope Café, a fabulous place for breakfast and lunch. Basically anything on the menu is good. You can’t go wrong. I don’t know what magic Dermot Caine possesses but he also makes these turkey wraps that always hit the spot.”

“Seems like a bad policy, to endorse the competition.”

She sniffed. “We’re not in competition. Apples to oranges. You want gourmet cuisine, come to my restaurant. You want good, honest comfort food, Dermot’s your man.”

“Is that right?”

“The French toast alone will make you weep tears of gratitude.”

He laughed, assuming she was speaking in hyperbole. Foolish man. After he tried it, he would know she spoke only truth.

“Around the corner there is Dermot’s daughter Charlotte’s candy store. Sugar Rush. Best place in town for flavored fudge. Blackberry, almond, cashew. She does it all. And she’s one of my good friends, too.”

“Is everyone in town your friend?”

She shrugged. “Basically. What can I say? It’s a friendly town. Why don’t we cross the street here?”

He eyed the crosswalk, thirty feet farther up the street. “A rule breaker. I like that in a woman.”

“It’s nearly midnight,” she pointed out. “The streets are pretty deserted right now. I think we’ll be safe unless we get rogue moose coming through town. Hope’s Crossing doesn’t have much of a nightlife this time of year, I’m afraid.”

“Not a problem for me. I’m not coming to town to party.”

Despite the dearth of traffic, he grabbed her elbow when they crossed the street. She found it incredibly sweet and wanted to lean into the strength of his firm hand touching her, even through the layers of her coat and shirt.

They were only taking fifteen steps across pavement, not fording Currant Creek during runoff, but she still enjoyed that little touch of courtesy.

“This is my sister’s shop,” she said, when they reached the other side. “Dog-Eared Books & Brew is absolutely the best place in town to get good coffee.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

On the other side of the street, she pointed out several of the old buildings in town and the efforts that had been made to keep the town’s historic flavor.

Hope’s Crossing was always so peaceful late at night when most of the residents slept. Instead of going all the way up to the restaurant, the one place in town she knew he had been, she turned them down Glacier Lily Drive, intending to make a loop back to The Speckled Lizard. They had only walked about ten feet when something large and dark came toward them out of the alley behind the fabric store.

Alex jumped and gave a little scream at the same moment, her mind on that moose she had joked about earlier. Moose scared her to death ever since just about being charged by one when she had caught it unawares while out mountain biking one day a few years ago.

She felt extremely foolish when she realized the menacing shape was only an off-leash dog who had apparently wandered away from home.

“Sorry. Sorry. That startled me.”

He didn’t laugh, which was more than most men she knew would have done.

“It startled me, too. We former Army Rangers try to be a little more manly and do our girly screaming on the inside.”

“We should probably find where he belongs. Come here, boy.”

In the small circle of light from the reproduction streetlamp, the dog looked to be a chocolate Lab. He had a frayed collar but no tags. “Oh, dear. Where did you come from?”

The dog licked her, tongue lolling and tail wagging. He smelled like wet dog, sharply pungent.

“I’m not exactly a dog expert but he looks like a purebred,” Sam said.

She had to agree. He had very elegant lines and beautiful hazel eyes that glowed in his dark face in the starlight. “I can’t imagine he’s a stray, even though that collar looks pretty mangy.”

“How do you expect to find his home tonight?”

“Good question, especially without tags. I’m trying to think if I know anybody with a chocolate Lab. Nobody comes to mind. He doesn’t look familiar.”

“You can’t know every dog in town.”

“Not
every
dog, no,” she admitted. “But I’m sure I would remember a good-looking guy like this one.”

The dog licked at her hand again and she rubbed his ears. She loved dogs. Claire and Riley’s morosely adorable basset hound, Chester, was one of her favorite creatures on earth. If her life weren’t so chaotic, she would definitely have one of her own.

“Any suggestions?” Sam asked. “Is there an animal shelter in town where we can take him for now?”

“There is, but they’re usually pretty packed.”

She considered her options and came up with only one viable possibility. “Looks like I’m going to have company for the night.”

“You’re really going to take him home with you? What if he’s rabid?”

“He’s not. Look at how sweet he is. I can’t just leave him to run wild on the streets. He could be hit by a car or even attacked by a mountain lion. I can call the shelter in the morning and see if they’ve had any missing pooch reports that match his description.”

“What if they haven’t?”

“I’m pretty connected,” she said modestly. “I can get the word out through the police department and even put a few posters up at the bookstore and Claire’s place. The owner will probably hear through the grapevine that I found a chocolate Lab. I should only have him for a day or two. It will be fun to have company, won’t it, bud?”

The dog woofed at her and licked her hand a third time, almost as if he understood.

“Take off your belt,” she ordered.

Sam angled a sidelong look at her. “I do believe that’s the first time I’ve been propositioned on a public sidewalk.”

She snorted. “That you’ve heard out loud, anyway. I’m sure plenty of women have
wanted
to proposition you, public sidewalk or not. Seriously, I need a leash and I’m not wearing a belt. I need yours. Don’t worry, you’ll get it back.”

He shook his head. “This is the most interesting evening I’ve had in a very long time.”

“Don’t get out much, then, do you?”

She tried not to ogle as he unfastened his belt and slipped it out of the loops. As he handed it over, his finger brushed hers with a shock of warmth against the chilling night temperature. With one hand, she pulled the belt through the dog’s collar and drew the end through the metal loop.

“There. Now I just need to hope it doesn’t slip through my fingers, but you’re not going anywhere, are you, bud?”

The dog wagged his tail, his haunches firmly planted on the sidewalk.

“Clever.” Sam looked amused.

“I can be. Your pants aren’t going to fall down now, are they?”

“I believe I can manage to avoid that horrifying eventuality for the few minutes it will take me to walk you to your car.”

Oh, she liked Sam. It was really a cruel twist of fate that the planets were so far out of alignment for them.

They walked through the quiet streets of town in a companionable silence, broken only by the dog’s snuffling as he investigated each crack in the sidewalk, the spring flowers blooming in baskets outside the storefronts, each streetlamp, signpost and fire hydrant.

“What’s your name? Hmm?”

The dog gave her a goofy grin in response.

“I think I’ll just call you Dude for tonight.”

“Oh, please,” Sam protested. “Leave the poor guy a little dignity.”

“Okay, okay.”

She considered ideas as they crossed the street again and headed back to The Speckled Lizard. The perfect name came to her when they were almost to the bar. “I’ve got it. I think I’ll call him Leo. He’s exactly the color of my favorite Leonidas Belgian chocolates.”

“Sure. That was going to be my choice, too.”

She couldn’t see Sam roll his eyes in the dark but his dry tone conveyed the same sentiment.

She laughed and squeezed his arm. What a wonderful night. Walking the quiet streets of Hope’s Crossing on a lovely April evening that smelled like spring with a gorgeous man at her side—and now a very adorable dog. What woman wouldn’t have this little bird of happiness fluttering through her?

Soon enough, though, they reached her little SUV and she opened the back door.

“Come on, Leo. Let’s get you inside.”

The dog didn’t hesitate, just jumped right into the backseat as if they had been practicing this routine for years. Her seats were probably going to stink for weeks. First order of business for Leo was a bath, even though it was nearly midnight. Both of them would sleep better for it.

She reached inside and pulled the belt end through the buckle and handed it back to Sam. “Thanks for loaning your belt. And for the evening. I had a really great time.”

She had said those words often on dates but had never meant them as much as she did in that moment.

“I did, too.” His voice held a slight note of surprise, as if he hadn’t been expecting to enjoy himself. “I would like to do it again. Soon.”

Okay, here was the awkward part of the evening. She couldn’t encourage him, not with all the complications, but she liked him far too much to turn him down flat. “Sure,” she finally said. “I’m pretty busy right now, between preparing for the new restaurant and wrapping things up at my current job, but sure. It was fun.”