Chapter Four
B y Friday afternoon, as Laura was driving down Main Street, she was still ticked off. She hadn’t “put her hands” on Hayden-freaking-Weston, as he’d described it. All three times were accidents. There was no way she’d willingly touch such a cranky, difficult guy. Granted, like his two brothers, he was drop-dead gorgeous—a woman would have to be dead not to notice—but the man managed to push all her wrong buttons.
He was making his poor son’s life miserable. Yes, he’d lost his wife, but that didn’t give him the right to make everyone else around him unhappy.
She parked her car in front of the bank, close to all the stops she had to make. Her cupboards and fridge were bare, so she needed food. And if she wasn’t mistaken, she’d caught a glimpse of what looked like a yarn shop between the pharmacy and Marietta Western Wear when she drove down Main Street the previous week. At the time, it hadn’t been opened yet. But hopefully, the owner had settled in by now.
Knitting and crocheting were both crafts she loved doing, but since the decision to move to Marietta, Laura had been so busy with all the new things in her life she hadn’t had a chance to even think about a new project. Her fingers were itching to start something, and she’d been so pleased to discover there was actually a yarn shop in town.
Being an only child, she’d quickly discovered things she could do on her own. Reading had always been her way to try to make sense of the world around her, and after her mom’s death, she’d lost herself in the pages of books, where she didn’t have to deal with her own grief and her father’s.
Before she went to high school, her maternal grandma, Laura, had taught her to knit and crochet. Since then, she’d never been bored. She’d never been one for crowds or parties and preferred listening to audiobooks while knitting or crocheting. It was a much more relaxing way to spend her time.
It also trumped dating. Seriously. Sitting in her jammies, not having to wear a bra, listening to a book, creating something with her hands—all way more fun than trying to stroke a man’s ego just to make him feel good about himself. Not her job, she’d realized after only a few boring dates.
She’d also made an appointment to see the real estate agent today, so she’d pop into their offices when she was done with her shopping.
As she picked up her bag, her mind went back to Tuesday night’s dinner at Arlene’s. She still felt so uncomfortable that she’d asked about Walker. Goodness, she didn’t know these people. She should’ve just listened. From everyone’s reaction around the table, it had been clear it wasn’t a subject the Westons liked to talk about.
Arlene’s eyes had been bright with tears, Willow had tensed up, and the brothers had fallen silent. It was something that had happened five years ago, yet everyone was still in pain.
Sighing, she got out of her car. Every family had their secrets, their burdens. It’s not as if she was getting involved with any of the Westons. When Luke moved to the next grade later this year, there would be no reason to mingle with them again.
Becket had texted and they were having dinner tonight at the Graff. She was looking forward to it. She liked him, and there were no strange vibes when she was with him. He was easy to talk to, so different from his grumpy brother.
Fortunately, she wouldn’t have to see Grumpy anytime soon. Also, she could do with a good meal. There simply hadn’t been time this week to buy or cook food. She’d ordered pizza one night and ate the leftovers the other night.
It was just after four, bitterly cold, and already nearly dark. Huddling in her coat, she looked at the shops on the other side of the street. Ooh, look—the lights were on inside the yarn shop. Delighted, she stepped into the road only to jump back quickly when a truck horn honked.
Lifting her hand to apologize to the driver, she quickly dropped it. Who’d be glaring at her through the front window? None other than Grumpy, of course. Ignoring him, she quickly crossed the road, exhaling when his truck drove away.
“Hello!” she called out as she opened the door of the yarn shop.
A beautiful blonde woman, more or less her own age, stood up from behind the one counter with knitting in her hand. A big smile lit up her face when she saw Laura. “Welcome, you’re my first customer! I’m new to town and I’ve just opened the doors. I probably should’ve waited for tomorrow, but then I would’ve missed you.” She held out her hand. “Eleanor Campbell, Ellie for friends.”
Laura couldn’t help smiling. She shook the woman’s hand. “And I’m Laura Anderson. I’ve also just moved to Marietta.”
“Then I want a hug!” Ellie smiled, and the next moment, her arms went around Laura and she was given a proper hug. “It’s so good to meet another stranger. I was feeling a little bit lost among the townsfolk, who all seemed to know one another since forever. Are you looking for something specific? If I don’t have it, I’ll get it.”
Laura laughed. “I am, actually. I’m a teacher at the elementary school and need another project for all the cold, winter evenings still ahead of us.”
“Well, let me show you what new yarn I got in today…” She turned away and moved the box behind her to the side. “Books. I was a librarian for a long time.” She smiled. “I have so many books.”
“I don’t believe one can ever have too many books,” Laura said.
Ellie’s face lit up. “A soulmate—how fabulous. I love books, always have. If you tell me your favorite author is George—”
“Eliot? Or rather, Mary Ann Evans?” Laura laughed.
Ellie gasped, then laughed. “Yes! I love, love Middlemarch , don’t you? I try to read it every year. When re-reading books I’ve enjoyed when I was younger, I find a whole other book living under the one I thought I’d read. Oh, I hope we can have long talks about it? We can start a book club, we can sit and crochet or knit and talk books—what do you think? There is a space at the back we can use. After hours? What day? Who do we invite?”
Laura’s head was spinning. Ellie’s enthusiasm was infectious. “It sounds perfect. I’ll ask around at school. I’m sure we’ll find more people who like books and knitting…”
“Those are always the best people, don’t you think?” Ellie handed Laura a business card.” I got these today—what do you think of the name?”
“ E LLIE’S Y ARN C OVE ,” Laura read. “I love it.” She turned around to look at the window. “It’s on the window too—I missed it as I came in.”
“How can you miss it?” Ellie cried out. “It’s new and shiny and so pretty!”
Laura had to smile. “Sorry, I nearly had another unfortunate encounter with the bane of my existence since my arrival in Marietta.”
“You mean”—Ellie dropped her voice—“Carol Bingley?”
Laura grinned. “I’ve only met her once. No, this was the dad of one of the kids in my class. But…” She glanced at her watch. “I have a date tonight and there are still several things I need to do, but I’ll tell you all about it when we have our first book club-slash-knitting meeting. But now I need yarn. I was thinking of knitting a pretty, warm scarf—what can you recommend?”
“Over here.” Ellie motioned and walked toward one of the big baskets in which an array of yarn was displayed. “Wow, you already have a date? You’re a fast worker. How long have you been in town?” she teased as she pulled out the yarn.
“It’s not really a date-date. He’s just a friend. One of my neighbor’s sons. Becket Weston.”
Ellie’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, him I’ve heard of.”
“His own mother has warned me about him. Don’t worry,” Laura laughed. “Besides, I’m not looking for a relationship. I like dating, meeting new people, but I’m not interested in anything serious. I am, though, interested in the history of the town and the surrounding ranches, and Becket seems to know a lot about it. Once he understood I wasn’t falling for his baby blues, he dropped the Casanova act. So, what about you? Any dates lined up?”
Ellie shuddered visibly. “No, thank you. Let’s just say my experience with the opposite gender has put me off men for life. But—she grinned—“we are going to have so much fun with our book club. Text me, please? Then I’ll have your number too.”
Minutes later, Laura left the shop, her phone in hand and with much more yarn than she’d intended to buy. But how was a girl to choose from among all the pretty colors?
It was snowing lightly, and she covered her head with the hood of her parka. With a quick look to the right and then left, making sure the street was empty, she stepped off the curb while entering Ellie’s phone number into her contacts.
The next moment, tires screeched, followed by an angry honk, and her heart just about leapt from her chest. Stunned, she stared at the truck that had come out of nowhere. A door slammed, and quick, irritated footsteps made their way over to her. Seriously, she didn’t believe this. Grumpy. Again.
“I could’ve killed you!” he called out as he approached. Recognition dawned as he came closer. “You, again. What the hell are you doing standing in the middle of a street, texting?”
“You came out of nowhere,” she huffed and turned away. “And I wasn’t in the middle of the street.”
A hand closed around her elbow. “Damn it, Laura, you could’ve been seriously injured,” he growled.
Jerking her arm away, she stepped back, but one foot slipped. She was going to fall! Desperately, she looked for something else to grab on to except Hayden-freaking-Weston, but steel arms clamped around her before she could catch her breath and she ended up against Hayden’s warm body again. Her hands on his chest. Again.
“Let me go!” she said through clenched teeth while trying to wiggle out of his arms.
“Damn it, woman, hold still.” Taking her elbow in a firm grip, he walked her across the street.
Only when they’d safely reached the other side did he drop his hands. “That was the fourth time.”
“What are you talking about?” She huffed out of breath, hitching her bag over her shoulder.
“You’ve touched me again,” he said, his eyes narrowed. With a sigh, he rubbed his face. “Stay out of the damn street.” Before she could respond, he walked away.
Exhaling slowly, she moved toward the bank on unsteady legs. Her whole body was tingling, her insides were a shuddering mess, and had it been her imagination or had she felt…? Shaking her head and muttering, she entered the bank. These ridiculous thoughts were only popping up because she’d ended up against Hayden Weston’s body again.
Argh. She didn’t have time for this…this craziness, damn it. She was on her way to talk to the bank manager to try to sort out her financial affairs. That was what she should be concentrating on, not the musky, earthy smell of a sexy cowboy.
The fourth time she’d touched him, he’d said. Why was he counting? And why was she still thinking about him?
*
Hayden saw Becket’s text to the family chat group as he sat down to dinner.
Dining at the Graff with Laura tonight. Told Isabella so she wouldn’t keep a plate for me
The swear word slipped out before Hayden could stop himself. What the hell was Becket doing with Luke’s teacher? And why was it bothering him?
“People who swear don’t have a vo… vo’bulary, Miss Anderson says,” Luke said primly.
Her eyes dancing with mirth, Willow leaned forward. “Why are you using bad words, Hayden?”
“I just don’t think what Becket is doing is a good idea.”
“She’s gorgeous.” Cooper smiled. “If he hadn’t made a move, I would’ve.”
Hayden glared at his brother. “Since when do you date?”
“I date,” Cooper said. “Sometimes.”
“Well, why don’t you and Hayden here go have a drink at the Graff tonight and make sure Becket behaves himself? Seeing you’re both so interested in the teacher. I’ll stay with my favorite nephew.” Willow tousled Luke’s hair.
“I didn’t say—” Cooper began.
“Good idea. I’ll pick you up in half an hour,” Hayden heard himself interrupting.
Luke’s head had been twisting this way and that as he tried to follow the conversation around him. “Are you talking about my teacher?” he finally asked.
Hayden swallowed a groan. His son was nobody’s fool.
“So, what would you like to do tonight, Luke?” Willow quickly asked. “What about—?”
“Can you read me a story?” Luke interrupted. “Miss Anderson says…”
While Luke went on and on about his teacher, Hayden ate his food, tasting nothing. He was ready to punch or kick something or someone. There wasn’t time in a day to think about his needs, his feelings, damn it. He had a ranch to run and a son to raise.
So then why was he going to the Graff for drinks tonight?