Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The newly erected scaffolding on Holbrook’s Hardware left Main Street looking half-dressed, like the building had been caught changing.
Tessa could relate.
Cade paused, and fixed his gaze on the construction.
Hmm. “Do you remember Holbrooks? It’s one of three or four original buildings left from the town’s founding.”
“It looks different.” He ran a hand across his beard, still studying the hardware store.
They’re restoring some old mural,” she said. “Nobody knows what it used to be. Could be historic art, could be an old ad for miracle elixir. The mystery is half the fun.”
His mouth quirked. “You find mystery in miracle elixir?”
“For sure. Like what’s in it? How does it work? I find mystery everywhere. It’s a gift.”
“Yes.” His voice dipped lower, but his smile came easy this time. “It is.”
“That sounded cryptic. Are you the strong, silent, mysterious type, or do you just practice that line in the mirror?”
His smile widened. “Don’t own a mirror.”
“Of course you don’t.” She rolled her eyes, but her pulse did cartwheels. “What about a sense of humor? You own one of those?”
“Working on it.” He tilted his head toward the scaffolding. “With the right teacher, maybe I’ll get there.”
Heat saturated her cheeks. Jeez. She’d blushed at least half a dozen times today. Since when did banter about miracle elixir and scaffolding feel like foreplay?
“Oh wait!” She slapped a palm over her mouth. “Do you know what the mural is? We could clean up in a betting pool if you do.”
Cade scowled. “I don’t gamble.”
“Ever?”
“Never.” His tone brooked no compromise.
All rightee then.
“But no,” he said, “there was no mural painted on it when I knew the store. Must of come after December 10th, 1878.”
She studied him, his head slightly ducked, mouth in a straight line. She wished she hadn’t said what she did about betting on the mural’s reveal. The mood definitely shifted.
“C’mon,” she said and reached for the door.
But he beat her to it, grabbing the handle and sweeping it open. “After you.”
“Thanks, cowboy.” Okay, she loved chivalry. Tessa might be fiercely independent, but she still found good manners hot.
Inside Zeke’s, the jukebox was spinning George Strait, the Nuggets were losing on the TV over the bar, and grilled onions and fryer grease scented the air.
Cade stepped in close behind her, and the scents melded. Grease and onions, yes, but under it the warmer smell of leather and horses carried in on him.
Eliza spotted them and waved them over. She and Wyatt had claimed a corner booth. Perfect spot.
Tessa slid in, and Cade followed, his thigh pressing against hers. She tried to scoot over to give him room, but there was nowhere to go. They were hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, and her entire right side caught fire.
Cade shifted, which somehow made it worse. Or better. Definitely something-er.
Brandi appeared with her order pad and a knowing look. “What culinary adventure are we having tonight, Tessa?”
“What’s the weirdest thing on the menu?” Tessa rested her chin in her upturned palms.
“Still the peanut butter bacon burger with raspberry jam,” Brandi said. “Hank isn’t all that intrepid with the menu. The PB&J burger is there just to please you.”
“And please me it does. Extra jam. And sweet potato fries. And that deep-fried pickle thing.”
“You gonna eat all that?” Cade asked.
“I’m gonna try. You want some? The pickle thing is big enough to share.” She turned to him, which brought their faces dangerously close. “Unless you’re scared of pickles.”
“Why would I be scared of pickles?”
“It’s big. Really big.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, then back up. “Are you challenging me to eat a pickle?”
“Maybe.”
“Children,” Wyatt said. “Can we order?”
They finished ordering and Brandi left.
Tessa became hyperaware of every point where her body touched Cade’s. She could hear him breathing. Smell that outdoorsman thing he had going on. Feel every tiny movement.
“You’re fidgeting,” he murmured.
“I’m not fidgeting. I’m adjusting.”
“You’ve adjusted six times.”
“Are you counting?”
“Yes.”
That single word sent her stomach into free fall.
“So,” Eliza said, eyes amused, grin suppressed, “how was shopping?”
“Success! He no longer looks like he escaped from a spaghetti western.”
“Zippers are complicated.” Cade’s face was deadpan.
Tessa choked on her water. Do not blush. Heat suffused her face anyway.
Cade patted her back, the warmth of his hand seared through her shirt.
Crap was she in premature perimenopause? Was this what hot flashes felt like?
His hand kept patting. “You okay?”
I’m fine,” she squeaked.
He didn’t move his arm.
“You sure?” His thumb brushed against her shoulder blade, possibly by accident, or maybe not.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “Super fine. Totally fine. The finest of fines.”
Their food arrived, and Tessa had never been so grateful for the distraction. Until she saw her burger.
“That’s...” Cade stared at her plate. “Impressive.”
She picked up the monstrosity, peanut butter, and raspberry jam oozing, and took a huge bite.
“Good?” Eliza asked.
“I’m having a religious experience.” She held it toward Cade. “Try it.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Scared?”
“Sensible.”
“Boring.”
“You’re not poking me into doing something I don’t want to do.”
“Fair.” She took another bite, got jam on her chin and reached for a napkin.
But Cade beat her to it, pulling a paper napkin from the holder and dabbing her chin.
The move was tender…and proprietary. Like she belonged to him. And heaven help her, she liked it.
Cade dropped his hand, and set the crumpled, jammy napkin aside, but the imprint of his touch lingered on her skin.
The deep-fried pickle arrived, and Tessa grabbed it like a lifeline. “Pickle! Look! It’s huge!”
“That’s what she said.” Eliza snickered into her coffee.
Tessa pointed the pickle at her. “You’ve been corrupted by romance novels.”
“Says the woman deep-throating a pickle.”
“I’m not—this is a normal bite—”
“Uh-huh.”
She looked to Cade for support, but his gaze rested on her mouth, and suddenly she couldn’t remember her name, must less the conversational thread.
“You want some?” She offered him the pickle.
“I want something.”
The words were innocent enough, but the way he said it, turned up her internal furnace so high she wanted to wriggled right out of her clothes.
“Edgar’s coming over.” Wyatt nodded toward the bar.
Sure enough, Edgar Cosgrove strolled up, thumbs latched around his suspenders. “Tessa, I heard you’re trying to turn those demon ponies into reindeer.”
“They’re not demons, or ponies either for that matter, but yes,” she said.
“Pool’s up to four hundred. I just put twenty on you.”
“Really?” Hope fluttered.
“Sure did. Sixty-six to four odds? If you actually pull this off, I’ll make a fortune. Nothing personal, just math.”
The hope died. It wasn’t faith in her. Edgar was gambling on a long shot.
“So you think I can do it?” She asked him.
“I think the potential payout is worth twenty bucks to find out.”
Cade stared at Edgar. “You’re betting on her to fail?”
“No, no, I’m betting on her to succeed because I’d actually lose money if I bet on her to fail and she tanks.” Edgar grinned. “It’s all in fun—”
“Where I come from,” Cade said, “when someone’s trying their best, you either believe in them or you don’t. You don’t make it about money.”
“Cade.” Tessa touched his knee and instant electricity shot up her arm. Oops, dumb idea. She dropped her hand in her lap.
Edgar looked peeved. Now hold on—“
“No. She’s working with difficult animals in winter conditions to create something for the whole town to enjoy. And you’re making money off her.”
Edgar mumbled something and beat a retreat.
The booth went silent.
“You didn’t have to say that.” Tessa bit her bottom lip.
“Yes, I did.”
“People are just having fun—”
“At your expense.” He turned to look at her fully. “You deserve better than being the town’s entertainment.”
Her throat constricted. “I’m used to it.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
She stared at him. This man from 1878 who’d known her less than a day but was defending her honor. The booth went silent.
Yikes. Too quiet. She wanted to crawl out of her skin. Quick, change the energy.
She snatched up her glass and lifted it in a mock-toast. “Well, cheers to being the town joke. At least I’m good at something.”
Cade’s gaze didn’t waver, but the corner of his mouth twitched, like he wasn’t sure if he should smile.
“Come on,” she said. “That was funny. You’re supposed to laugh.”
His lips curved slightly, but when their eyes met, her pulse tripped. No joke in his eyes. Only certainty, aimed at her like he’d already chosen her side.
Oh boy, she was in a pickle indeed.
* * *
Back in Tessa’s truck, Cade slid into the passenger seat and buckled up the seatbelt the way she showed him. 2025, harnessing in men the way men harnessed horses in his time.
She started the engine and headed back to the ranch. “Thank you for what you said in there.”
“I meant it.”
“Still, no one’s ever defended me like that before.”
“Then you’ve been hanging around the wrong people.”
A minute passed. Maybe two. The truck’s light beams illuminating the dark road in front of them.
“Cade?”
“Yeah?”
“This thing between us...”
“Yeah?”
She cleared her throat. “Is it just me?”
“No.” He held his breath. “Definitely not just you.”
“I see.”
A long stretch were no one spoke. The lights of the town fell away and it was just the two of them cocooned in silence. Cade couldn’t think of anything to say that would improve on the quiet.
“So,” she said several minutes later. “That was fun. Nothing like being the dinner entertainment.”
“The people who bet against you are fools.”
She glanced at him, then back at the road. “Maybe they’re right. I do tend to bail on things.”
“Like what?”
“Businesses. Relationships. I had a soap-making company for three months. A food truck for six weeks. A YouTube channel about rural living that lasted exactly two episodes.”
“So you try things.”
“I fail at things.”
“You learn what doesn’t work.” He shifted to look at her profile in the dashboard light. “Most people are too scared to even try.”
“You’re being awfully philosophical for someone who just learned about zippers.”
He remembered her hands on him in that dressing room, the way she’d knelt—
Stop.
“Zippers are more complicated than they need to be,” he grumbled.
“Everything in this century is more complicated than it needs to be.” She turned off the main road onto gravel.
He couldn’t argue with that.
“Home sweet home,” she said, pulling into the ranch and parking her truck.
He followed her inside, trying not to notice how her stretchy pants fit or the way she moved through her space with unconscious grace. The house looked different from this angle too. He’d only glimpsed it from the barn before.
“Bathroom’s through here.” She led him down a narrow hallway. “This is going to seem weird, but I need to show you how things work.”
“I’ve been bathing myself since I was five.”
“Not like this.” She opened the bathroom door. “Okay, so. Shower.”
The bathroom was tiny, barely bigger than an outhouse, with a tub that had some kind of contraption rising from it.
“Hot water comes from here.” She turned a knob, and water shot from the wall. “Cold from here. You adjust until it’s comfortable. This curtain keeps water off the floor, very important. Towels are in that cupboard.”
“Where does the water go?”
“Down the drain, through pipes, to the septic system.” She caught his expression. “It’s like underground storage. Don’t worry about it. Just don’t flush anything weird down the toilet.”
“What would be weird?”
“I don’t know. Whatever you flushed in 1878.”
“We had outhouses.”
“Right. Well, this is like a very fancy outhouse that’s inside.” She was babbling now, nervous. “Toilet paper only. No... other things.”
“What other things would I—”
“I don’t know! I’ve never had to explain modern plumbing to someone from the nineteenth century before.” Her cheeks were pink. “Shampoo is for hair. Body wash is for body. They’re labeled.”
She was standing close in the small space, close enough that he could see the flutter of her pulse at her throat. Close enough to wonder what how she tasted. Probably like raspberry jam.
“I can figure it out,” he said.
“Right. Of course.” She backed out of the bathroom. “Guest room’s here.”
She opened the door across the hall. The room was sparse but clean, a bed, a dresser, a window looking out toward the barn. Everything he needed.
“Sheets are clean. Extra blankets in the closet if you get cold. The heater’s weird, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.” She twisted her hands together. “I’d offer you pajamas but I don’t have any that would fit. I should have bought you some at the clothing store. I wasn’t thinking.”
“I’ll manage.”
They stood there in the doorway, neither moving.
“Tessa—”
“I should let you shower. It’s been a long day. The longest day. Historically long, literally.” She was backing down the hallway. “I’ll just... I’ll be in my room if you need anything. Down at the end. But don’t need anything. I mean, need things if you need them, but—”
“Tessa.”
She stopped. “Yes?”
“Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”
“You already thanked me.”
“Not enough.”
She looked at him for a long moment, and he saw the war in her eyes. Same war he was fighting.
“Goodnight, Cade.”
“G’night.”
She disappeared down the hall. He heard her door close, then immediately open again.
“The hot water takes a minute to warm up,” she called. “And the shower handle sticks sometimes! And—”
“Tessa.”
“What?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Right. Yes. Fine. Goodnight. Again.”
Her door closed.
He stood in the hallway, looking at the guest room that would be his, thinking about the shower he was about to take in a bathroom that shouldn’t exist, in a house with a woman who’d somehow summoned him across time.