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Authors: Loree Lough
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because, fair or not, he too often reminded her of Ernest. She couldn’t, wouldn’t go back to hiding cuts and bruises, not even for the man who’d saved her life.
But wasn’t she putting the cart before the horse? Because what made her think Lamont was interested in anything more than continuing their friendship?
Then she remembered the way he’d held her, how tenderly he’d looked at her after her party, just before Julie had called out. He would have kissed her, if not for the interruption.
That shouldn’t change a thing. She was still the dirt-poor widow who’d just lost everything in a fire. He had a ranch of his own to run and surely he didn’t need another burden to bear.
So why was he standing there, looking like a pup who’d just had his nose whacked with a rolled-up newspaper? He reminded her of Adam as a boy, when she’d said, “No cookies before dinner” or “You can’t spend the night at Timmy’s house.” What stirred in her heart right now couldn’t begin to compare with what she’dfelt when her son wore that hangdog look. Moments ago, she’d accused Lamont of being confused when, in truth, it was she who had no explanation for the emotions warring within her.
Perhaps it was the concussion, or knowing she’d lost the house and everything in it, or the fact that Adam and Julie and Amy were homeless now, too, that made her want hide in Lamont’s big, warm embrace, recapture the sensation of utter safety she’d felt when he’d held her after the fire. How strange it had been, feeling soothed by a man’s hands after years of torture from Ernest’s. Stranger still, feeling protected—even for a moment—in the arms of a man whose behavior occasionally raised ugly memories…
Had it been his deep, soothing voice, promising that everything would be all right, that started this battle between her sensible head and her romantic heart? Or that way he had of looking at her, reminding her that she was still a woman, despite having lived alone for years?
As he stared at the toes of his boots, the ceiling lights glinted from the silver strands peppering his dark hair. Nadine wondered if it would feel as think and soft as it looked.
He looked up just then and caught her staring. She tried…tried to pretend he wasn’t standing there, boring into her with those long-lashed glittering gray eyes of his. Tried to ignore the captivating smile.
One thing was sure: It would be definitely be a long ride home.
Chapter Five
F rom her vantage point in the big mirror at Kaye Turner’s salon, Nadine had a perfect view of Lamont. At first he’d paced near the wide window at the front of the shop. Now, a mini-traffic snarl outside captured his attention, and as he stopped to watch it, Nadine watched him. Something her Irish grandmother once said popped into her head. A year or so before the old woman died, she’d visited Nadine and, after being introduced to Lamont, fanned herself with a lacy hanky. “Ooo-eee!” she’d said. “Ye’d be smart not to let that one get away, Deenie. Why, he could star in a Hollywood movie, all tall, dark and handsome like he is.” Winking, she’d added, “Yes indeedie, he’s a…he’s a fine fig’re of a man!”
Thankfully, Lamont had been too far away to hear. “Gamma O’Riley, Sunday services are barely over!”
Winking one blue eye, she’d said, “God knows I’m right.” She’d nodded toward the parking lot, where Lamont was climbing into his pickup. To this day, Nadine didn’t know what made him look up just then, but he had, and when he’d waved, her heart did a littleflip. “I might be an old woman, Deenie, but I know what I see, and that boy is moony-eyed for you.”
Now, just as he had all those years ago, Lamont looked up again, this time meeting her eyes in the mirror. And, just as it had all those years ago, her heart did a little flip. If anybody’s moony-eyed, she thought, pretending Kaye’s movements had distracted her, it’s
But wasn’t she putting the cart before the horse? Because what made her think Lamont was interested in anything more than continuing their friendship?
Then she remembered the way he’d held her, how tenderly he’d looked at her after her party, just before Julie had called out. He would have kissed her, if not for the interruption.
That shouldn’t change a thing. She was still the dirt-poor widow who’d just lost everything in a fire. He had a ranch of his own to run and surely he didn’t need another burden to bear.
So why was he standing there, looking like a pup who’d just had his nose whacked with a rolled-up newspaper? He reminded her of Adam as a boy, when she’d said, “No cookies before dinner” or “You can’t spend the night at Timmy’s house.” What stirred in her heart right now couldn’t begin to compare with what she’dfelt when her son wore that hangdog look. Moments ago, she’d accused Lamont of being confused when, in truth, it was she who had no explanation for the emotions warring within her.
Perhaps it was the concussion, or knowing she’d lost the house and everything in it, or the fact that Adam and Julie and Amy were homeless now, too, that made her want hide in Lamont’s big, warm embrace, recapture the sensation of utter safety she’d felt when he’d held her after the fire. How strange it had been, feeling soothed by a man’s hands after years of torture from Ernest’s. Stranger still, feeling protected—even for a moment—in the arms of a man whose behavior occasionally raised ugly memories…
Had it been his deep, soothing voice, promising that everything would be all right, that started this battle between her sensible head and her romantic heart? Or that way he had of looking at her, reminding her that she was still a woman, despite having lived alone for years?
As he stared at the toes of his boots, the ceiling lights glinted from the silver strands peppering his dark hair. Nadine wondered if it would feel as think and soft as it looked.
He looked up just then and caught her staring. She tried…tried to pretend he wasn’t standing there, boring into her with those long-lashed glittering gray eyes of his. Tried to ignore the captivating smile.
One thing was sure: It would be definitely be a long ride home.
Chapter Five
F rom her vantage point in the big mirror at Kaye Turner’s salon, Nadine had a perfect view of Lamont. At first he’d paced near the wide window at the front of the shop. Now, a mini-traffic snarl outside captured his attention, and as he stopped to watch it, Nadine watched him. Something her Irish grandmother once said popped into her head. A year or so before the old woman died, she’d visited Nadine and, after being introduced to Lamont, fanned herself with a lacy hanky. “Ooo-eee!” she’d said. “Ye’d be smart not to let that one get away, Deenie. Why, he could star in a Hollywood movie, all tall, dark and handsome like he is.” Winking, she’d added, “Yes indeedie, he’s a…he’s a fine fig’re of a man!”
Thankfully, Lamont had been too far away to hear. “Gamma O’Riley, Sunday services are barely over!”
Winking one blue eye, she’d said, “God knows I’m right.” She’d nodded toward the parking lot, where Lamont was climbing into his pickup. To this day, Nadine didn’t know what made him look up just then, but he had, and when he’d waved, her heart did a littleflip. “I might be an old woman, Deenie, but I know what I see, and that boy is moony-eyed for you.”
Now, just as he had all those years ago, Lamont looked up again, this time meeting her eyes in the mirror. And, just as it had all those years ago, her heart did a little flip. If anybody’s moony-eyed, she thought, pretending Kaye’s movements had distracted her, it’s
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