A Town Called Valentine

chapter Seventeen



The next morning, Emily was in the back room of the flower shop making bows when Monica called out, “Em, there’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

Emily came through the door, then stopped in surprise on seeing Josh Thalberg standing at the counter, carrying a closed box.

“Hi, Josh,” Emily said, staring with interest at the box.

“Josh said you hadn’t been formally introduced,” Monica said doubtfully, “and I was to do the honors.”

Emily smiled at Josh, who returned the smile in a slow, aw-shucks way that was endearing. “We spoke once, but without exchanging names. And then I saw you at the ranch,” she said to Josh. “We never did get to say two words to each other yesterday.”

“Damn cows,” he said, nodding.

Monica spread her hands wide. “Ookay. Emily Murphy, this is Josh Thalberg.”

Josh put the box on the counter, and they shook hands. “Nice to finally meet you, Emily.”

“You, too.” She gestured to the box. “Can I help you with something?”

He gave Monica an apologetic glance. “Emily and I discussed selling my work on consignment, and I wondered if you’d mind if we continued?”

“No problem,” Monica said. “I’ve got an arrangement to work on. Thanks for your business, Josh. Em, I can answer any questions later.” Then she disappeared into the workroom.

Emily smiled. “You might regret wanting to work with me. I’m pretty new at all this.”

“I thought it was only fair to show you my work since you were the one who persuaded me to give it a try.”

“I didn’t drag you in off the street—that was your idea. But let’s stop praising each other and see what you’ve got.”

He opened the box, and one by one set his work on the counter.

She gasped at the leather-framed mirror, intricately tooled with a Western desert sunset. “Oh, Josh, you’re so talented!”

He didn’t say anything, only brought out several frames tooled with mountain cowboy life, as well as leather journals and wallets done in flowers and vines, and belts with stamped geometric patterns. Lastly, he showed her two purses, one covered in daisies with a long strap, and the other a clutch with a swirling pattern. “These last two are what I’ve been working on since you mentioned them.”

“That quickly?” she said in surprise.

“I already had the leather. Just had to cut it out and begin work. I looked through Brooke’s closet for ideas in regard to size, then did some research on the Internet. Do you think these will sell?”

The stitching was done in leather to look Western, but it was meticulous and snug. The inside was well lined. “Josh, these are so unique. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised how well they’ll sell. We’ll have to talk about the price you should ask for. Your Internet research will probably come in handy there. But first—how the heck do you have time to do this? It seems ranch life is twenty-four hours a day. Do you have any kind of social life at all?”

He shrugged and seemed to redden a bit as he stared out the window. “I like to keep busy. There’s something about this work that just . . . calls to me. And the family knows and respects the time I give myself.”

She found herself wishing she could ask Nate about Josh’s talent but didn’t know if that was going too far. She was consulting him about her most personal problems, but she shouldn’t want the same from him.

“Emily, you have another visitor,” Monica called from the showroom.

Again? Emily put aside her pen after recording the last of Josh’s crafts as she sorted through them. It couldn’t be Nate, when they would be seeing each other that afternoon. She walked into the showroom and saw a short middle-aged woman with black hair framing her face. She held a cane in one hand, and her eyes fastened on Emily with interest.

Emily glanced at Monica, who grinned, and said, “Emily, this is Sandy Thalberg.”

Nate’s mother. Curious and excited at the same time, Emily put out a hand, but to her surprise, Mrs. Thalberg gave her a big hug. Flustered, but pleased, Emily laughed. “Mrs. Thalberg, it’s so wonderful to meet you. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet when I delivered arrangements yesterday.”

“I was disappointed, too,” Mrs. Thalberg said, studying Emily with friendly eyes. “Please call me Sandy. Otherwise, I won’t know if you’re talking about me or my mother-in-law. She and Brooke always speak of you fondly, as do my boys.”

Emily highly doubted that Nate and Josh said much about her at all, but she didn’t bring that up. “Your whole family has been so welcoming. And I wouldn’t have had a clue about my building renovations without Nate’s help. Please, have a seat,” she added, gesturing to the wrought-iron chair near her pastry display.

“You’ve got to try Emily’s croissants,” Monica gushed.

“My mother-in-law raves about your baking,” Sandy said, taking a seat and accepting the croissant Monica handed her on a napkin. Sandy took a big bite, then hummed her approval.

Emily knew she was probably blushing.

“Oh, Emily, my family was right about your cooking,” Sandy said, even as she licked a crumb from her lip. “I’ve come here to ask you to Sunday dinner, but after eating this, I’m worried my cooking will pale in comparison.”

Emily saw Monica give her a wide-eyed glance, and inside, she felt a little thrill of her own, followed quickly by concern for Nate’s reaction. “Mrs. Thal—Sandy, you’re too nice.”

“Well, I try to be, but I don’t have to try about this. I guess I’ll ask you to dinner and take my chances.”

Emily smiled, knowing she was too curious to refuse. Nate would just have to understand. “Thank you so much. I’d love to come. And please, I’d like to contribute. Let me bring dessert.”

“Then I’m off the hook for having to compete with this.” Sandy ate another bite, watching her. “I hear you helped herd the cattle.”

“No, I clung for dear life to your husband, while he herded the cattle.” Emily laughed. “It was a wild, exciting ride.”

“It’s not a job for the faint of heart,” Sandy said, shaking her head. “You have to love it, and love the life. The long days can be grueling, but being together as a family makes everything worthwhile.”

Emily could have melted inside at the warmth and contentment in Sandy’s voice. After a terrible beginning as a young woman, she’d found everything she ever wanted, children, a home. Emily wanted to change her life, too, and for just a moment, she imagined doing it here, in Valentine, with those mountains standing guard, and the wide-open, vivid blue sky proving that anything was possible. She felt suddenly empty imagining those mountains replaced with towering concrete.

She found herself blurting, “I’ve learned so much in the few weeks I’ve been in town. Life in Valentine Valley is so different from San Francisco.”

“I hope you consider that a good thing.” Sandy lowered her voice as Monica went to wait on a customer.

“It’s made me see things in a different way. Frankly, I’ve felt more relaxed here, more at peace with the decisions I’ve made. I was pretty unhappy when I got here, but now I know things will work out.”

“Because you’ll make it happen.” Sandy smiled. “Sometimes all we can hope is to be at peace with our decisions, especially after a bad marriage. I’m not sure Nate told you, but I can relate to your problems.”

“Yes, Nate mentioned your first husband. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Sandy’s husband left her because she had been diagnosed with MS—not too different from Greg’s leaving her over not being able to have children. And in that moment, it all rushed back on Emily, the sadness, the emptiness. But it didn’t overwhelm her. Suddenly, she realized that Sandy had touched her hand and now gave it a supportive squeeze.

They smiled at each other.

The flower-shop door jingled as it was opened, and Nate strode in. Dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, hat in his hand, he came up short when he saw the three women, and his gaze focused on Sandy touching Emily’s hand.

Monica chuckled and escaped into the workroom.

“Hi, Nate,” Sandy said, grinning up at him.

Emily thought her eyes sparkled with mischief, and Emily sat back in her chair to watch Nate’s reaction.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, then glanced at Emily. “I’m early, I know. Sorry.”

Yet his look told her he was glad he’d come early. Emily gave him an innocent smile. “No problem. Come have a croissant with your mom while I get ready to leave.”

Nate watched Emily as she sauntered into the workroom looking way too satisfied. He put his fists on his hips and studied his mom. “Well?”

“Well what?” she asked innocently. “Oh, Nate, you need to try these croissants.”

“I’m saving my appetite. I imagine Emily told you why,” he said dryly.

“Actually, we didn’t talk much about you at all. I take it you and Emily have a date? Where are you taking her?”

“Into Aspen.”

“That makes sense. She shouldn’t travel all this way and not see it. Who knows if she’ll ever get back here?”

That made Nate grit his teeth, but he hid his reaction with a pleasant, “So what brought you into town? Where’s Aunt Marilyn?”

“I came to meet Emily. Marilyn wanted to relax this morning after the trip yesterday. We’re spending the afternoon at the spa up valley. Have you ever had one of their massages? I feel so alive afterward.”

Nate didn’t want to hear spa stories. “You came to meet Emily? Why?”

“Because I didn’t get to meet her yesterday. And since you’ve been spending so much time with her, I thought I should meet the woman who could pull you away from work.” She shrugged her shoulders as if it all made perfect sense.

Had she allied herself with Josh about his spreading himself too thin? She of all people knew what he could accomplish if he set his mind to it. “So now you know she’s a nice woman and a friend. Are you satisfied?”

Sandy laughed. “I am, now that she agreed to come to dinner Sunday.”

Nate briefly closed his eyes on a sigh. “You didn’t think you should talk to me about it?”

She waved a finger at him. “About who I invite to dinner in my own home? Nope. And why would I think there’s a problem since you spend so much time with her?”

Feeling tense, he answered, “There’s not a problem, Mom.”

“And she’s Brooke’s friend, too. And your grandmother’s. Even Josh seems to know her.”

That didn’t help his tension.

Nate lifted both hands. “Fine, fine, I get it. I’m looking forward to dinner already.”

“That’s good,” she said, rising slowly to her feet and reaching for her cane. She patted his cheek. “So don’t break up with her before Sunday, or it might be awkward for you.”

He opened his mouth but thought better of trying to explain things. “Yes, ma’am.”

She lifted her head, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Have a good time today,” she said.

Her grin made him grin in return. “Thanks.”

But after his mom left, he remembered the way she’d been touching Emily’s hand when he arrived, the serious, sad looks on both their faces. The memory lingered with him, even while he tried to get Monica to open up about her sister’s tense visit; then it briefly fled his mind when he saw Emily, wearing a short skirt and a V-necked top that showed more of her breasts than he was used to seeing.

She blushed. “Monica loaned this to me, said I needed to blend in in Aspen.”

“No,” Monica countered, “I said she needed to show herself off to Aspen.”

“So it’s all about Aspen, and none of it for me?” Nate demanded. He put his arm around Emily and gave her a quick kiss. “I forgive you. I don’t care about the reason as long as I can enjoy the looking.”

“Well, now that you have his forgiveness,” Monica said dryly, “all is right with the world.”

Emily was still chuckling when she hopped up into the pickup. “No Scout?”

“He stayed home today. I wanted you all to myself.” When they left Valentine behind and were driving along Route 82, he said, “I noticed that you and my mom were looking pretty serious when I got there. Everything okay?”

She looked out the window for a long minute, the breeze blowing her red-blond curls about her pretty face. Her expression was briefly pensive before she sighed and gave him a small smile.

“Your mom and I have a lot in common, and not just you,” she said quietly. “We both had lousy marriages to men who weren’t what they seemed.”

Nate kept his eyes on the road. He hadn’t imagined that the two women could so quickly touch on such a sensitive topic when they’d just met. Could women just look at each other and know when they shared something? He knew how his father had treated his mother but had assumed that Emily’s husband had been restless, or had decided he wasn’t in love. Comparing Emily’s situation to his mom’s made it seem so much darker and complex. He gripped the steering wheel tighter at just the thought of Emily being hurt.

“So Greg lied to you?” he asked.

She hesitated. “Not really. I knew what he wanted in life. I just never imagined he would go looking for it without me.”

“You mean he had an affair?” He felt guilty even asking, in the face of her pain.

“No. Nate, don’t worry about it. It’s in my past, and it’s too beautiful a day to think about sadness. So, do you have plans for Aspen, or will we just see what happens?”

Nate had to force a smile, when he really wanted to know every detail of what Greg had done to her. He felt the strong pull of sympathy and compassion and knew where they could lead to. They were only dating, he reminded himself. He wasn’t going to learn everything about her. Because if he kept feeling this way, he was going to have to end it between them. And Emily would thank him for it.

Emily was relieved when Nate dropped the subject of her ex. The fact that he was curious meant he still didn’t always succeed at keeping his distance, and she wasn’t going to be another person he regretted being with. He didn’t need to understand her or her past. She was escaping painful memories, starting a new life, finding a new Emily.

And this Emily showed off a lot of cleavage, she thought ruefully. Glancing down at her chest still made her start with surprise, as if she hadn’t finished dressing. She’d dressed much more conservatively in San Francisco, and not because Greg had tried to control what she wore. She just had a different sort of life then.

Now, it gave her pleasure to see the way Nate couldn’t take his eyes off her, and once she even had to remind him that he was driving. It took twenty minutes to reach Aspen, where he parked the car, and they wandered hand in hand through the small town. Victorian gingerbread homes gave way to impressive mansions that perched on the hillsides through the valley. But the town itself still clung to its cozy village charm. He took her on a gondola ride up the mountain so that she could gape at the incredible view of the green valley spread below her and the snow-topped mountains all around her. They window-shopped the little boutiques on the Cooper Avenue Mall, a touristy area where a little creek ran through a tree-shaded boulevard. She gaped at the clothing prices and insisted she didn’t need to try anything on. He even begrudgingly followed her into the little history museum, where she learned all about the nineteenth-century mining that had begun the transformation of a remote encampment to the eventual mecca for the world’s wealthy. For dinner, he took her to a small, candlelit restaurant, where the chef came out to greet him like an old friend. Nate later explained that he and the chef had common friends in an organic farmer down valley, but Emily thought he was leaving things out. She didn’t blame him.

On the trip back to Valentine, the darkness enveloped them in the truck cab, and Nate took her hand. “Would you like to come back to my cabin for a drink?”

She glanced at him without surprise. She enjoyed being with Nate, and found his notion of dating much easier than she’d imagined. There was no pressure, for she knew he wasn’t looking for a wife. She’d spent her life longing to be someone’s wife, looking for the family and stability she’d never had. And look where that had gotten her! If she didn’t go to Nate’s cabin, was she still protecting herself? How was she supposed to live a new life like that? Maybe she was being too cautious, too careful. It was time to be as sexually casual as everyone else in the twenty-first century.

“Since you haven’t answered my question,” Nate finally said, “should I take it back? Maybe I’m rushing you.”

As they turned off the highway, heading toward the deeper darkness of the mountain silhouettes, she unbuckled her seat belt and slid beneath his arm. “No, you’re not rushing me. I’d love to see your place.”

She felt his hand in her hair, and she could have purred at the pleasure of it. She wasn’t going to think about anything else but him and the night and the passion they’d felt combust between them since the first moment they met.

Silver Creek Ranch was dark beneath the starlit sky as they rode between the hayfields and the creek. When the pickup turned into a driveway, a spotlight came on over a garage. Nate’s cabin was made of logs, old, she could tell, but kept in good shape. Scout was waiting just inside, and he joyously greeted them before running past into the night.

“Is there a fence to keep him in?” she asked dubiously.

Nate shook his head. “He knows his way around. Sometimes he’s gone for hours.”

“Will he need to be let back in?”

He met her gaze. “He’ll wait on the porch until I come for him.”

“Ah, how handy.”

“I know how to train a dog.”

Inside, he’d opened up the main living area into one room, with a kitchen and its island in one corner, dark cabinets gleaming with silver touches. As he flipped on more accent lights, she realized that the focus of the room was a pool table.

She arched a brow at him, and he grinned.

“I never hid my enjoyment of the game,” he said, going to the wet bar at the end of the kitchen counter. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Anything white would be fine.” She kept staring at the pool table, remembering. She heard soft music turn on, something sensual in rhythm and blues.

He brought her a glass of wine, then stood at her side as she took a sip. “Every time I look at this table, I remember.”

“Good or bad memories?” she asked, glancing at him with amusement.

“Both, I guess. You were . . . wild that night, and I enjoyed every minute of it. And then it was over, and I never got to see how the game ended.”

She set down her wine. “Then we should play another game.”

He put down his own glass. “I’ll win,” he said softly, reaching out to touch her bare shoulder, just a fingertip that gently traced.

She shuddered and briefly closed her eyes at the electric sensation. “You won’t be the only winner.” She grinned at him. “So rack ’em up, cowboy. But first take off your shirt.”

His smile was briefly interrupted with surprise, and she took satisfaction in that. No point being too predictable since she was becoming a new Emily.

Nate sailed his hat onto the glass coffee table, leaving his black hair tousled, then slowly pulled off his shirt, his gaze fixed on her. Her mouth went a little dry at all that lean muscle earned working hard for a living. Even though he had the faintest farmer tan on his lower arms, it was obvious he worked without a shirt when he was overheated.

Speaking of overheated . . . she felt suddenly too warm beneath his smoldering regard. She didn’t want to play pool; she wanted him to sweep her into his arms as if he couldn’t resist her anymore. Instead, he sauntered to the pool table and racked the balls, just as she’d stupidly asked. Ah, but he had to bend over the table . . . and reach for things . . .

“Emily?”

To her surprise, she realized he’d been holding out a cue to her, and she’d barely noticed, so focused was she on his broad chest scattered with dark hair.

“Oh . . . sorry.”

When she reached for the stick, he closed his hand over hers, bringing her closer, until her bare arm brushed his bare chest.

“I think you need a lesson,” he murmured against her hair. “May I?”

“Please.”

Then started the most pleasurable, slow-building foreplay of her life, as he used his hands to position her body, to guide her arms, to lean her over the edge of the table to position her cue just right. Her pulse pounded so hard she could barely hear the music. When she was trying to make a shot, he was right behind her, and she gasped when his hips brushed her backside.

“Concentrate,” he whispered evilly.

She glared at him over her shoulder, then her trembling hands ruined the shot. But it didn’t matter, for he leaned his hips into hers, pressing her against the table. He buried his face in her hair, kissing her neck, caressing her arms and back, then pulling her shirt up over her head. He reached around to cup her breasts and guide her back against his body. She sagged in his arms as he gently rubbed her nipples through her lace bra, playing with her, tormenting her. Her moans were plaintive, and his answering groans let her know he felt just as turned on as she did. When he unsnapped her bra, she let it fall down her body. He turned her about and stared down at her with so much hunger she felt like a sex goddess. Feeling provocative, she leaned back on the table, bracing herself with her arms behind her, her breasts practically lifted in his direction.

With another groan, he gathered her against him, skin to skin, her nipples gently abraded by the hair on his chest. Then, just like before, he lifted her until she sat on the edge of the table. When he pressed between her thighs, this time her skirt rode up. And then they were kissing, his hands filled with her breasts, his tongue taking possession of her mouth. She lost track of everything but the feel of him beneath her hands, the sleek heat of his skin, the ripple of muscle down his stomach, the roughness of his face at the end of the day.

He kissed his way down her neck, arching her back, and she wantonly let her hair spill all around the table, crying out when his lips found her nipple. He nipped and licked and drew her deep within his mouth, leaving her shuddering and gasping, pressing herself hard against the long ridge of his erection.

“Let me take you to bed,” he whispered harshly.

“Why not right here?” she whispered back, still arched and offering her breasts.

He groaned and shuddered, and she felt him cup her buttocks with both big hands. The slide of her panties down her thighs was erotic, until the feel of his fingers lightly stroking her made her realize that everything before had led up to this, this burst of sensation and need and desperation.

“Nate, please,” she whimpered.

But he seemed in no hurry, staring down at her half-naked body with hooded eyes, his fingers moistening the deeper he played with her. With his other hand, he caressed her breasts. She trembled and shuddered with each touch, holding her breath as he came closer and closer to what she really wanted.

He circled her *oris, making her practically sob. She came at once, shuddering in his arms as he reached down to hold her.

“Jesus,” he whispered hoarsely.

“It’s been a long time.” Her voice was shaky with satisfaction. “Now take off your pants, and let’s rack some other balls.”

His laugh was partially a groan, and she heard him fumbling in his pants pocket before he yanked off his clothes. He was quick with a condom, and before she could even reach for him, he thrust home swift and sure.

She felt the deep fullness, the pressure of him already unfurling a new burst of passion. Joined so intimately, he leaned over her, hands braced on the pool table on either side of her body, his eyes pinned to hers.

“You . . . all right?” he asked, his breathing coming deep and quick.

“Better than that.” She reached to play with his nipples, to stroke every part of his bare skin she could reach.

Eyes closed, he accepted her touch, quivering, his erection pulsing inside her as if longing to be unleashed. Perspiration broke out on his forehead, he bit his lip, yet he held himself still as she explored him.

Then, with a groan, he pulled out and surged back in. She felt electric, her skin tingling with sensitivity. Every thrust of his body brought her closer to bliss again, and when at last she exploded, he let himself go, harder and faster and deeper until his upper body collapsed on top of her.