Chapter Twenty-One
When Josh walked into the lobby of The Little Nell, he saw Whitney right away, dressed upscale casual in a light pink sweater, lace tank top, and pleated skirt. She was sitting in a chair, long, tanned legs crossed, frowning intently as she scanned her phone. Though it had only been a day, just the sight of her made his heart beat faster.
“Whitney?”
She looked up, and the welcoming smile that broke over her face felt like the warmth of the sun emerging through the clouds. She rose and came easily into his arms. He held her for a moment, before taking her face in his hands for a quick kiss.
“My, you clean up nice,” she said, stepping back to admire his khakis and polo shirt.
He felt stupid because he’d even shaved, something he usually only did every couple days.
“I don’t have to wear this all the time, do I?”
She laughed. “Not for me. And not even for my parents. I think you’re fine the way you are.” She leaned closer conspiratorially. “You should have seen my mom’s eyes widen when I arrived yesterday in jeans and a Western shirt. It was fun.”
He reached for her hand and held it loosely as they faced each other. “How did it go?”
She shrugged. “My brother is an idiot. He seems to think his troubles will just go away. Maybe he’s had some reason to believe that,” she added with faint sarcasm. “But not this time. Somewhere inside, he’s probably regretting destroying his marriage because I think he and Courtney suited each other.”
“So they’re here to get away from it all?”
She shrugged again, but her gaze didn’t quite meet his. “Partially, yeah.”
He suspected there was more family drama than she was discussing, but he wouldn’t grill her. He didn’t think it was about trust. Embarrassment, maybe? He just didn’t know and could only hope she’d eventually confide in him.
“Whitney!”
They both turned around to see her family approaching. Josh could see her resemblance to her elegant mom, who barely looked old enough to have had her. Mr. Winslow was a commanding man, not tall, but radiating power and confidence. There was some of that presence in her brother Chasz, but it was dimmed, as if his problems had chipped away at his feeling of invincibility. But he was still putting on a good show, the first to reach out a hand.
Josh shook it, smiling.
“Josh Thalberg,” Whitney began, “meet my brother, Chasz.”
“So this is the ‘Cowboy Artist,’ ” Chasz said. “You don’t look too much like a cowboy right now.”
“I left my Stetson and boots in my pickup truck,” Josh said.
Whitney rolled her eyes at her brother. “Josh, this is my dad, Charles Winslow.”
As they shook hands, Josh said, “Good to meet you, Mr. Winslow.”
He was not invited to call him by his first name, but the man smiled at him.
“Josh, you have a beautiful valley here,” Mr. Winslow said. “I always enjoy visiting. Do you ski?”
“Snowboard, mostly. But I’ve done some skiing, too.”
“I can remember in my youth, when snowboards weren’t even permitted at some resorts. Things have really changed.”
“For the better, I hope,” Josh said. “Luckily, there’s room for all of us.”
He turned to Mrs. Winslow, and she gave him the warmest regard.
“I’m Vanessa, Josh,” she said, leaving her hand in his a moment too long. “It’s so wonderful to meet a special friend of Whitney’s.”
Special friend? He’d accept that.
Outside, they walked around the corner to a little restaurant for lunch, and after they’d ordered, Josh found himself the object of lots of questions, as expected.
“So how large is your father’s ranch?” Mr. Winslow asked.
“A thousand acres, sir. My brother Nate oversees our diversification and investments into other businesses, like organic produce, rodeo stock, even a winery.”
Mr. Winslow nodded. “A sound strategy for a small ranch. How many employees work on a ranch that size?”
“Dad,” Whitney said in a warning voice.
Josh smiled at her. “It’s no secret. It’s mostly family, my dad, mom, Nate, Brooke, Brooke’s probably future husband Adam, our secretary, and an old part-timer. Neighbors help out certain times of the year, like branding, and we, of course, do the same. If you’re here a while, you’ll have to come visit.”
Vanessa smiled. “What a nice invitation.”
“Lately, they’ve been having much-less-welcome visitors,” Whitney said. “It’s my fault, of course. I talked Josh into the photo that went viral.”
“Talked me into it?” Josh said, leaning back as the waitress brought their drinks. He took a swig from his beer bottle and eyed Whitney. “You bet me.”
She blushed. “I didn’t see any other way. I knew it would be great marketing, and it has been.”
“Whitney showed me your shoulder bags this morning,” Vanessa said. “Exquisite detail work. I bought one for a friend for Christmas.”
“That was kind of you, ma’am.” Josh didn’t know how he felt about it—embarrassed at the ridiculous price? Grateful, even though it might be a perfunctory purchase to appease her daughter? Vanessa hadn’t had to buy one. Unless she felt compelled for some reason, he mused, eyeing the way Vanessa cast eager glances at her daughter.
“What did you bet?” Chasz asked idly.
Josh could tell he hadn’t been all that interested in Josh’s mundane life, but at last he’d mildly intrigued him. “That if I did the photo, she had to go on a date with me.”
Vanessa chuckled, and to Josh’s surprise, Mr. Winslow’s tight mouth showed the faint shadow of a smile.
“Little did he know, I’d have probably given in without the bet,” Whitney admitted.
“Now you tell me,” Josh said, smiling at her.
“Mom showed me the bag,” Chasz said. “You do the whole thing?”
“Most of it. Recently I’ve hired one of our hands, Adam Desantis, to work with the leather. That’s a process in and of itself, what with the dying or gluing thin sheets together.”
“So have you made my sister a bag?”
“She’s kept me slaving away in my workshop to meet all my requirements.”
“Hey!” Whitney said.
“I do have something in mind just for her,” Josh admitted.
“I bet you do,” Chasz said.
Josh frowned at his tone of voice but said nothing. Whitney looked furious, her mother worried, but her dad had begun to scan his phone.
To forestall a problem, Josh said, “Not sure what Whitney told you, but that photo has led to all kinds of complications. I don’t know how people do it regularly, being recognized on the street by strangers. This morning, I caught a photographer sneaking across a pasture. Seems he thought a ‘cow’ wouldn’t bother him, not realizing it was bull we’ve been doctoring. Barely got him out of there before he got gored.”
“So you saved his life?” Vanessa asked, wide-eyed.
Josh shrugged. “Couldn’t let him die of stupidity. Couldn’t exactly get angry with him either, when he was near collapsed with relief.”
Josh felt like he was working hard to keep everything light and amusing. He sensed the tension moving between Whitney’s family, like a shark under a calm surface. And he didn’t think it was all about him, either. He knew some of Whitney’s problems with her family, but why couldn’t they see what she’d accomplished, how hard she’d worked?
Whitney steered the conversation back to his ranch and his family in a proud way, and he had the first inkling that maybe her pride in him masked a deeper emotion—even love. But he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He listened to the family arrange to come to Valentine the next day for lunch and a tour of Leather and Lace, but everyone seemed… false, filled with hidden agendas. What a tiring way to live.
Whitney drove back to the B&B after lunch, and to her surprise, Josh’s pickup followed her rather than heading to the Silver Creek Ranch. She looked in her mirror and felt all soft, remembering his handsome charisma and cowboy charm on display for her parents. Josh hadn’t exactly cracked her dad’s shell, but her mom had definitely warmed to him. And Josh’s presence had allowed her to put off a private talk with her family, who would keep pushing her on a decision about joining Winslow Enterprises.
And she just… couldn’t make a decision. It was what she’d always wanted, but somehow, it felt wrong, like she was “cheating” on everything she’d worked toward. Yes, her two shops were operating without her day-to-day involvement, but she was never going to be able to expand without giving it her undivided attention.
And her parents’ request felt far too desperate, what with Chasz’s ethical—and maybe legal—troubles.
She raised her hand to wave, assuming Josh would drive on by now that he knew she was home safe (on a beautiful, cloudless day), but he pulled in behind her and got out.
“Long time no see,” she said wryly, leaning against her SUV.
“Got a message from the sheriff that he was looking for you,” Josh said. “He should be here any minute.”
She tensed. “Is it about the rock-thrower?”
“I don’t know. You having other legal issues I don’t know about?”
To her surprise, he seemed only half in jest, and she studied him for a moment. Before she could speak, the sheriff’s car cruised around the corner and parked.
Sheriff Buchanan got out of his SUV and took a moment to place his cowboy hat perfectly on his head. Then he walked toward them with his military gait.
“Mornin’, ma’am,” he said to her with a nod, then shook hands with Josh. He glanced back at her. “I mentioned I’d be interviewing neighbors for witnesses to the rock-throwing incident, and I finally found a couple.”
“I’m stunned,” Whitney said, trying to keep her eagerness at bay. “Since there hasn’t been a repeat performance, I sort of thought we were just going to let it go as a one-time prank.” She thought of Sylvester Galimi and hoped he hadn’t lied to her.
The sheriff arched a brow. “I don’t do that, ma’am.”
“Sorry, I just thought… you know, there must be more important crimes to occupy your time.”
“You mean like an escaping pig?” he deadpanned.
She opened her mouth but couldn’t think of a thing to say. Then she saw Josh’s shoulders shake and realized he was barely containing laughter. Sheriff Buchanan watched him almost idly, but she detected some humor there as well.
“Okay, okay, I get it,” she said. “Were the witnesses of any help?”
“They identified a stranger, a young woman not from around here.”
Not Sylvester, she thought with relief. But then—it also wasn’t a person upset with Leather and Lace “corrupting” Valentine Valley. What the heck was going on?
“That’s unusual for a rock-thrower, isn’t it?” Josh asked.
“It is, especially since she was expensively dressed. I checked out the hotels and B&Bs, and I found her.”
Whitney stared at him. “You’re kidding. Did she claim she was drunk?”
“No, ma’am. It took a while to get the story out of her, but it seems she’s a big fan of Josh here.”
Josh, who’d been leaning against Whitney’s car, now straightened. “What? This is connected to me?”
“Wait, wait, is her name Andrea, the girl who’s staying at The Adelaide with me?” Whitney asked, thinking of the smug young woman who’d been giving her snide looks the last couple weeks and refusing any kind of conversation over the breakfast table.
Sheriff Buchanan nodded.
“I remember her,” Josh said slowly. “I found her trespassing to get a photo, then met her again here.”
“She’s one of your biggest fans,” the sheriff said impassively. “And very jealous, it seems.”
Whitney momentarily felt relief and elation that people in Valentine weren’t trying to drive her away. Then she watched Josh’s face darken. “Now, Josh…”
“So this is my fault?” he said. “That damn picture started all of this?”
And your grandmother’s fan club fanned the flames, she thought, but didn’t say so aloud. “You can’t blame yourself because some foolish girl had nothing better to do than imagine herself infatuated with a guy in a photo. And as you so recently pointed out, I made you do it.”
The sheriff looked back and forth between them with interest, then mildly said, “Guess you’re just too good-lookin’, Josh.”
Whitney’s suppressed laugh came out as a snort, then she held up both hands to placate Josh. “This’ll die down, I swear. You’re not doing anything new and interesting to encourage it.”
He glanced at Sheriff Buchanan. “I’m still seeing Whitney. You think she’s in any kind of danger from this?”
Whitney snorted in earnest, but the sheriff took Josh’s question seriously.
“I don’t believe so. I’ve fined the girl and told her in no uncertain terms it’s time for her vacation in Valentine to be over. She moved out of the B&B while you two were gone.”
“It was that easy?” Whitney asked.
“Well, I did tell her I would make sure this didn’t appear on her record as long as she went peaceably. She seemed to appreciate that. And she left a check with Debbie for your damages.”
“Good,” Whitney said, feeling relief lighten her shoulders. Josh was still glowering, so she said, “Thanks so much for solving this, Sheriff. I feel much better.”
They shook hands all around, Sheriff Buchanan got in his SUV, and Whitney turned to Josh. “Now you have to let this go.”
He blew out a breath. “I’ll try. I just can’t believe my stupid fame affected you. What if it had been something worse?”
She put her hands on his chest. “It wasn’t. Just a silly girl with a crush and no impulse control. It wasn’t the citizens of Valentine Valley trying to drive me out of town.”
His gaze sharpened on her, and he seemed to relax. “I’m sorry you had to worry about that.”
She shrugged. “It was hard to think otherwise, after my less-than-warm welcome last winter. Of course, Sylvester and his gang might have given up trying to dissuade me, but now there’s my family.”
He cupped her cheek with one hand. “You don’t have to be some kind of symbol to their success, only of your own happiness. Surely they’ll care about that. They seemed nice.”
“They were on their best behavior,” she said darkly.
“For me? Should I be impressed?”
With a sigh, she put her arms around him. “I’m impressed, and that’s all that matters.”
“You mean because they like this small-town cowboy?”
“Yep.”
She pulled his head down for a kiss, and only broke apart several minutes later, when someone beeped at them as they drove by.
“Invite your family out to the ranch for dinner tonight,” Josh said.
Whitney blinked up at him. “Really? You want that kind of stress?”
“It won’t be stressful. Real stress will be my mom’s reaction if I don’t invite them.”
“I don’t want you to suffer that. Thanks, we’ll accept.”
After Josh left, Whitney dropped off shopping bags in her room before heading to Leather and Lace. Her silence about the real reason her family had come was beginning to weigh more heavily on her, but how could she tell Josh when she didn’t even know what decision she was going to make? And she didn’t want to be persuaded by anyone other than herself.
Her family arrived a couple hours later in a limousine. Her mother hugged her again, as if she hadn’t seen her in months instead of hours, and Whitney felt uneasy. It was far more affection than she was used to, and she couldn’t trust the motivation. She’d spent much of her life away from her mom, after all.
On the sidewalk, her father stared up at the new, prominent Leather and Lace sign, which could be seen on Main Street, up the block.
“I see why this large sign is necessary,” Charles said, glancing toward the busier street. “You might have done better to locate there.” He pointed toward Main.
“No suitable buildings, Dad. As it is, this one used to be a funeral home.”
Chasz rolled his eyes even as their father frowned.
“Will you have enough customers to make this work?” Charles continued.
“Did you see the tourists on Main Street? And the summer season is over. Imagine the holidays—or ski season. I’ve already had lots of people stopping by and asking about our Grand Opening. But come on in and see what they’ve done to the place. They’re almost ready to start putting together all my display tables.”
She chatted on, describing the antique theme she was going for, to match the house itself. In winter, she’d have a fire going, the gas kind, because she wouldn’t want her lingerie to smell like smoke. When she mentioned that the Sweet brothers would next be working on an apartment upstairs, her mother frowned.
“An apartment?” Vanessa echoed. “You don’t plan to live here permanently.”
Whitney hesitated. “I don’t know what I’m planning, Mom. But I need a place to stay when I’m in town.”
“Speaking of a place to stay,” Vanessa said, “we saw that beautiful old inn at the base of the mountains.”
“The Sweetheart Inn. I’ve met the owner. She’s a nice old lady. But it’s not something I’d—”
“I didn’t mean you,” Vanessa said brightly, “but us. We’d like to be closer to you while we’re here. We already brought our luggage.”
“Oh.” Whitney tried to sound upbeat. How long did they plan to stay? Until they wore her down, and she decided to give in to their demands? It must be taking everything in them not to constantly bring it up.
But Chasz himself was enough of a reminder. Already he gave his wandering eye free rein and looked at every pretty woman they passed on the street. She wanted to shake him and say, You don’t care about Courtney?
She didn’t know what to think. He’d always boasted with pride of his work for the company. And now… what was next for him? Was he trying to forget that he’d screwed up everything in his life?
Or was he going to happily drag her in as well, until she was just as dirtied by his deeds?