Grant Wilcox had just stepped out of his truck when Harvey
Tipton, the postmaster, walked out of the Sip 'n Snack
coffee shop.
Harvey greeted Grant with a grin through his scruffy beard
and mustache. "Hey, about to take a look-see, huh? Or
maybe I should say another one."
Grant gave him a perplexed look. "What are you talking
about?"
"The new piece in town."
Grant made a face. "I'm assuming you're referring to the
new woman in town, right?"
"Right," Harvey responded, with his head bobbing up and
down, his grin still in place. He obviously saw no reason
to be ashamed or to make an apology for his unflattering
terminology. "She's running the shop for Ruth."
Of all people to run into, Grant groaned inwardly; Harvey
was the town's most prolific gossip. And the fact that he
was a man made it worse.
Grant shrugged. "That's news to me, but then I haven't
been in for coffee in a while."
"When you see her you'll regret that."
"I doubt it," Grant said wryly.
"I didn't figure you for dead yet, Wilcox."
"Give me a break, will you?" Grant was irritated and
didn't bother to hide the fact.
"Well, she's a stunner," Harvey declared. "Heads above
anyone else around here."
"So why are you telling me?" Grant asked in a bored tone,
hoping Harvey would take the hint.
Harvey gave him a conspiratorial grin. "Thought maybe you
might be interested, since you're the only one around here
without a wife or significant other." He slapped Grant on
the shoulder and widened his grin. "If you know what I
mean."
For a second Grant wanted to flatten the postmaster's
nose, but of course he didn't. Harvey wasn't the only one
who had tried to play matchmaker for him.
Sure, he'd like a hot-blooded, feisty woman to occupy his
bed on occasion, but the thought of anything permanent
made him break into a chill. For the first time ever, life
was good — especially in the small town of Lane, Texas. As
a forester, Grant was doing what he loved and that was
playing in the woods, cutting trees that would eventually
earn him a ton of money.
More than that, he wasn't ready to settle down. With his
roaming past, he never knew when the itch to move might
strike; then where would he be? Trapped. Nope, that wasn't
for him, at least not now.
"So want me to go back in and introduce you?" Harvey asked
into the silence, following with a deep belly laugh.
Grant gritted his teeth and said, "Thanks, Harv, but I can
take care of myself when it comes to women." He pointedly
looked at his watch. "I'm sure you have customers waiting
for you."
Harvey winked. "Gotcha."
Yet once the postmaster was out of sight, Grant found
himself walking a bit faster toward the entrance to the
Sip 'n Snack.
Kelly Baker scrubbed her hands hard in the hot, sudsy
water, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. She had
been putting pastries in the front counter and was
convinced she had goo up to her elbows.
Since she'd been in this small country town of Lane —
three weeks now — she'd asked herself over and over if
she'd truly lost her mind. She knew the answer, though,
and it was no. Her cousin, Ruth Perry, had needed help,
and Kelly had come to the rescue, just as Ruth had come to
hers following the tragic event that had changed her life
forever.
"Ouch," Kelly mumbled, feeling a stinging sensation in her
hands. Jerking them out of the water, she grabbed a towel,
then frowned as she looked at her fingers. Gone were the
long, beautifully manicured nails and the soft skin she
was once so proud of. Now, her hands looked all dried and
pruney, as if she kept them constantly immersed. She did,
even though she had two daytime helpers, Albert and Doris.
Another sigh followed as Kelly looked around the empty
coffee shop, picturing how it would look in a short time.
It would be teeming with people. She smiled to herself at
the word teeming. That term hardly fit this tiny town.
Still, who was she to make fun? Ruth's newest addition to
this logging community of two thousand had been a huge
hit. With little invested, her cousin was already turning
a profit — albeit a small one — selling gourmet coffees,
pastries, soups and sandwiches.
According to the locals, Sip 'n Snack was the place to be.
And that was good. If Kelly had to be in this place, at
least she was where the action was, until the shop closed
every day.
Kelly dreaded the evenings. They were far too long and
gave her too much time to think. Even though she walked in
the door of Ruth's small, cozy house so exhausted she
could barely make it to the bathtub, much less to bed, she
still couldn't sleep.
But nights had been her problem long before she came to
Lane. And now with the empty afternoons, the past had
ample opportunity to rear its traumatic head and haunt her
once again. Soon, though, she would fulfill her obligation
to her cousin an would be back at home in Houston where
she belonged.
However, she reminded herself ruefully, her personal life
hadn't been any better there or she wouldn't be here now.
Inside, at the core of her being, her heart had been
coated with cement that nothing could chip away.
"Phone for you, Kelly."
When she picked it up, Ruth's cheerful voice said, "Hi,
toots, how's it going?"
"It's going."
"I don't want to keep bugging you, but I can't stand not
knowing what's going on. I'm having major withdrawals from
the shop."
"I can imagine."
"Have you met him yet?"
Kelly made a face. "Met who?"
Ruth chuckled. "The town hunk, the only single guy worth
his salt around there."
Kelly purposely hid her agitation. "If I met him, I didn't
know it."
"Oh, trust me, you'd know."
"You're wasting your time, Ruth, playing matchmaker." Her
cousin sighed. "It's past time you looked at other men.
Way past."
"Who says I don't look?"
"Pooh. You know what I mean."
Kelly laughed. "Hey, don't stress yourself about me. If
I'm supposed to find someone else, I will." Only not in
this lifetime.
"Sure." Ruth's tone was a tad cynical. "You're just
telling me what I want to hear."
Kelly laughed again. "Gotta run. I just heard the buzzer."
Before Ruth could reply, Kelly hung up. Setting her smile
in place, she came from behind the counter, only to pull
up short and stare. Later, she didn't know why she had
behaved in such a manner. Perhaps it was because he was so
tall and handsome.
Or better yet, perhaps it was the way he was looking at
her. Was this the "hunk" Ruth had just told her about?
To her chagrin, the stranger's dark blue eyes began at the
tip of her toes and worked slowly upward, missing nothing
of her trim frame. He gave a pointed glance at her breasts
and hair, making her strangely glad she had recently
placed highlights in her short, sherry-colored tresses.
When those incredible dark eyes whipped back up to hers,
the air was charged with electricity. Stunned, Kelly
realized she was holding her breath.
"Like what you see?" she asked before she thought. God,
where had that come from? Her real job. Being bold and
forward was what had pushed her to succeed in her
profession.
The big guy grinned, a slow, sexy grin. "As a matter of
fact, I do."
For the first time since her husband's death four years
prior, Kelly was completely unnerved by a man's stare. And
voice. She sensed, however, this stranger wasn't just any
man. There was something special about him that commanded
attention. Rugged was the word that came to mind.
She wasn't used to seeing men in worn jeans, washed so
much that their color had faded, plus a flannel shirt,
scarred steel-toed boots and a hard hat in his hand. Even
in Lane, this caliber of man was rare.
He was still staring at her. Kelly shifted her feet and
tried to look away, but failed. That ruggedness seemed to
go hand in hand with his six-foot-plus height, muscled
body and slightly mussed, sun-kissed brown hair.
Big and dangerous. A treacherous combination.
God, what was she thinking? No matter how attractive or
charming the man, she wasn't interested. If so, she
would've encouraged other men's affections — in Houston.
He was probably up to his armpits in women, anyway, even
in Lane.
No man would ever measure up to her deceased husband,
Eddie. Having drawn that conclusion, Kelly had
concentrated on her career and made it her reason for
living.
Breaking into the growing silence, she asked in her most
businesslike tone, "What can I get you?"
"What's the special today?" he asked in a deep, brusque
voice that matched his looks.
Kelly cleared her throat, glad some normalcy had
returned. "Coffee?"
"That'll do for starters," he responded, striding deeper
into the shop, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
"The specials are on the board." To her dismay, Kelly was
rooted to the spot like a tongue-tied imbecile. Then, red-
faced, she finally whipped her gaze to the board behind
the counter, which always listed the day's coffee and food
specials.
"Not this time," he drawled, "unless I've lost a day." He
paused. "Today's Wednesday, not Tuesday. Right?"
Convinced her face matched the color of her hair, Kelly
nodded. She hadn't changed the sign, which under ordinary
circumstances wouldn't have been a big deal. But for some
reason, this man's comment made her feel inadequate, a
condition she despised.
Shrugging her shoulders, Kelly gave him a sugary smile and
said, "French vanilla latte is the coffee flavor for the
day."
He rubbed his chin for a moment, then frowned. "Too bad a
fellow can't just get a plain cup of joe?"
Realizing that he was teasing her, she kept that smile in
place and said, "Sorry, this is not that kind of shop. But
then you know that. So if it's supermarket coffee you
want, you'll have to make your own."
He chuckled. "I know."
Despite her reluctance, she felt a grin toying with her
lips. "I'll take the plain brew that's closest to normal
old coffee." When she returned with the cup and placed it
in front of him, Kelly didn't look at him, hoping to
discourage further conversation. Despite his good looks,
for some reason, this man made her uncomfortable, and she
wanted no part of him. Still, she handed him a menu.
He glanced at it, laid it aside, then looked back up at
her. "So you're the new Ruth?"
"Hardly."
"So where is she?"
"Out of state caring for her ailing mother."
"You're filling in, huh?"
"For a while, anyway."
His thick eyebrows bunched together as his gaze locked on
her again. "By the way, I'm Grant Wilcox."
"Kelly Baker."
Instead of offering his hand, he nodded. "A pleasure."
Every time he spoke, she had a physical reaction to his
voice. It was like being struck by something you thought
would be severe and bruising, so that you recoiled
inwardly. Only it wasn't at all. It was pleasant, in fact.