Chapter Five
Skylar shouldered open the oak door, stumbled into the cool dimness of her house, and dropped the crisp paper shopping bags onto the sofa.
She turned, pushed the door closed and twisted the brass deadbolt.
Facing the mountain of purchases, she planted her hands on her hips and shook her head.
She huffed, gathered the rustling bags again, and strode to her sun-drenched bedroom, where she dumped them on her white eyelet comforter.
She’d had a good day, despite the fact her lunch was cut short with Rawley, but as she had walked through town, she spotted a polished wooden sign that caught her eye, The Wright Bookstore.
Her heart skipped. She’d almost passed it by.
She had set off across the sunbaked pavement, careful to dodge the sparse traffic.
Halfway there, a warm, sweet scent drifted from a pastel-painted bakery across the street.
She paused, inhaled deeply, and groaned at the smell of freshly baked goodies.
She saw the name Sweet Nothings on a blue awning in white cursive letters.
Temptation tugged, but she shook her head.
Those could wait. She wanted to spend some time in the bookstore.
Pushing open the glass door of the store, Skylar was greeted by a soft chime and a flood of golden light pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows.
The air smelled of aged paper, polished oak and a hint of vanilla sachets tucked between the new releases.
A handful of customers lounged in overstuffed chairs, flipping through magazines or books.
Skylar smiled when she read the sign on the wall.
The only book you’ll be reading here is the one you bought. This is not the library.
To her left, a walnut-stained concierge desk curved along the wall, where three clerks exchanged quiet banter. Straight ahead, towering shelves rose to a mezzanine balcony, their spines arrayed like colorful battalions. A wrought-iron staircase invited exploration to the open second floor.
A friendly voice chimed from the desk. “Hello, welcome to The Wright Bookstore. Is there anything I can help you find?”
Skylar smiled. “I’m just browsing. Could you tell me where the contemporary romance section is?”
“Sure, take a left at the drama shelf, then it’s the second row on your right.” The young woman smiled as she pointed to the shelves.
“Thanks so much.”
“No problem.”
She trailed her fingers along the polished railing, then turned into the designated aisle.
The soft carpeting muted her steps. And there they were, her novels, perfectly lined up with glossy covers facing outward.
Skylar’s breath caught. She reached out, slid a book into her hands, and savored the weight of it, her words, her characters, on display for anyone to discover.
A flush of pride warmed her cheeks as she replaced the book.
Turning to leave, Skylar spotted a striking redhead at the front counter, laughing with the clerk who’d greeted her. The woman’s hair glowed like embers under the skylight. As the conversation lulled, the redhead looked up, her green eyes locking onto Skylar.
“Excuse me,” she called, stepping forward. “Are you Skylar McCoy?”
Skylar nodded, her heart thudding. “That’s me.”
The woman’s smile widened. “I’m Sydney Wright, owner of this place. I adore your work. Are you in Clifton as a tourist?”
“No,” Skylar said, shaking her head. “I just moved to Clifton, but I’m still discovering all the local spots.”
Sydney grinned. “Well, welcome to Clifton. Once the summer tourists leave, it’s heaven for locals, no lines, no crowds, just peace and good shopping.”
Skylar laughed. “I went overboard at Paige’s. That place is dangerous. I don’t even want to look at my bank account today.”
“I’m the same way,” Sydney agreed. “Paige is one of my closest friends and I use that as an excuse to stop in there.” She paused, then held out a crisp business card. “When you have time, I’d love to host a book signing. What do you say?”
Skylar accepted the card, the paper smooth under her fingertips. “I’d love that.”
“Great.” Sydney beamed. “Call me when you’re ready. It was wonderful meeting you.”
“You too.” Skylar slipped the card into her bag, waved goodbye, and stepped out into the afternoon heat.
She scanned the street and found her SUV.
After putting the shopping bags in the back seat, she slid behind the wheel, the late-day sunlight glinting off her windshield as she drove home, already planning her next bookstore visit, and that signing.
Now, perching on the edge of her bed, Skylar kicked off her sandals, wiggling her red-painted toenails in relief.
A long, steamy shower called to her, then she’d slip into her favorite leggings and oversize T-shirt, put the new clothes away and tackle chapter three of her new manuscript.
Her stomach growled in protest since she hadn’t eaten much of her salad at lunch.
She’d been disappointed that Rawley had to leave.
A pizza from Clifton Pizza sounded amazing about now.
After peeling off her clothes, she reached into the marble shower stall, twisted the brass knob, and waited for steam to rise before stepping under the pulsing spray.
Hot water cascaded over her sun-kissed skin as her thoughts drifted to Rawley.
Something about his badge and the authority it represented sent a delicious shiver down her spine.
Livestock agent or not, the man carried a gun and handcuffs for a living.
By the time Friday rolled around, her stomach was a tangle of nerves, her palms slick with sweat.
This wasn’t like her at all. Men never intimidated her, she’d always walked away from the ones who tried, leaving them in her dust without a backward glance.
She wanted a man who saw her as an equal, not some delicate flower to be coddled or controlled.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror on her closet door, she scrutinized her reflection from every angle.
The purple dress clung to her hourglass figure like a second skin, the hemline skimming just above her knees.
The color made her blue eyes pop. The scoop neckline revealed just a hint of cleavage, suggestive but not scandalous, while the matching stilettos added three and a half inches to her height and made her calves look spectacular.
The diamond earrings caught the light when she turned her head, drawing attention to the curve of her neck.
She inhaled deeply, the scent of her jasmine perfume filling her nose as she tried to steady her racing pulse.
The butterflies in her stomach could only be attributed to one thing; Rawley.
A smile curved her lips as she recalled her first impression of Cull, how she’d told Ryan he was all man and now Rawley embodied that same raw masculinity.
He was such a... man. The way his eyes seemed to see right through her.
A very sexy man who she desperately wanted to know in every possible way.
****
Rawley eased the pickup into Skylar’s gravel-dusted driveway.
He shut off the engine, the rumble fading to quiet, then reached across the seat to lift the single yellow rose from the passenger side.
With a slow exhale, he swung open the door, stepped onto the sun-warmed gravel, and strode up the short flagstone path to her front stoop.
The bungalow stood apart from its neighbors, its low-slung roofline with wide eaves casting geometric shadows across the crisp white stucco.
A deep front porch stretched the width of the house, supported by tapered columns of river stone that matched the chimney rising from the right side.
The front door, a heavy slab of oak with a small, stained-glass window depicting a stylized sunset, was flanked by casement windows with diamond-patterned grid.
Terracotta planters lined the three shallow steps leading to the porch, each bursting with lavender and rosemary that scented the air with a Mediterranean perfume.
He lifted a finger and rang the brass doorbell, then waited.
Moments later the door swung open. Skylar stood framed in the darkened foyer, backlit by soft lamplight. Her blonde hair caught the glow in soft waves around her shoulders. Rawley had to clench his jaw to keep it from dropping open.
“You look beautiful,” he managed.
She smiled, brushing a loose curl from her face. “Thank you. Come inside.”
He removed his Stetson, brushed off a few flecks of dust, wiped his boots on the woven welcome mat patterned with blue flowers, then stepped over the threshold. The air smelled faintly of vanilla and fresh herbs. He held out the rose. “For you.”
Skylar’s eyes lit. “That’s so nice of you, Rawley.” She tucked her nose into the bloom and inhaled deeply, savoring its sweet scent. “Let me put this in the fridge, then we can go.” She glanced up and offered him another warm smile. “You look very handsome tonight.”
Rawley smirked, tugging at the collar of his crisp blue dress shirt. “I’m just wearing a nice shirt with my jeans and boots.”
“You still look handsome.”
“Well, thank you, ma’am.”
“Give me a second to put this away.” She walked across the floorboards toward the kitchen.
Rawley watched her heels click softly, his chest tightening. She paused by the stainless-steel fridge, turned, and his heart skipped. She tucked the small leather purse under her arm and began to approach him but stopped. He followed her gaze down to the floor.
“You have a cat,” he observed as a large cream and dark brown cat arched past her ankles, tail high.
Skylar laughed, reaching down to stroke its soft fur. “Don’t you like cats?”
Rawley shrugged. “I like all animals. I do have a few barn cats.”
“This is Cosmo. He’s a Himalayan and as you can see, he’s not impressed by either of us.” The cat flicked his tail dismissively and sauntered away.
Rawley grinned. “If you’re ready, we should go.”