Read Online Yesterday's Magic by Beverly Long - Free Book Online Page B

to kill Bart. Slowly. Painfully.
But first he needed to get rid of this woman. “What can I do for
you?” he asked, making sure she heard the impatience in his
voice.
    “Practicing for tomorrow night?” she asked.
Her tone was cool.
    He could smell her scent across the small
room. It was something spicy and rich and full of promise. But he
supposed he shouldn’t hold that against her. Anymore than he should
hold it against her that he’d been a fool and volunteered to take
her to the dance. He was just about to apologize when Bart stepped
forward.
    “Jed don’t need no practice, Bella. He’s
a—”
    “I’m sure she doesn’t have time to chat,
Bart,” Jed interrupted.
    She frowned at him. “Aunt Freida thought you
might want this,” she said, holding up the shovel that she carried
in her left hand. “You know, she can smell snow a-coming.”
    She’d done a better-than-fair imitation of
Freida with the last part. “I imagine she’s right,” he said. He
crossed the room and reached for the shovel.
    Their fingers brushed. And he jerked his hand
back. The skin on her hands was warm, almost hot. It should have
been cold. The woman was a fool to be out without gloves.
    He was a fool to care. He took a breath,
hoping to steady himself and was immediately sorry. Now he had her
scent in his lungs, where it would linger, and threaten to overtake
him.
    He reached again, more careful this time to
grab only the handle. “Good day,” he said. Go. Now. Before I do
something else foolish.
    She didn’t move. “Aunt Freida wanted to know
if you could stop by the store later?” She raised a hand to her
head and twirled a lock of her hair around her first finger.
    He looked at the floor. There was no need to
be looking at all that hair and wondering what it would feel like
to have a bunch of it wrapped around his hand. Or God forbid,
tickling his bare chest in bed.
    “Well?” she prodded, like he was simple.
    Oh hell. Any minute he’d prove her right. He
was acting like some old man who needed help remembering where he
was or how to get home. She had to go. Now. “I reckon I could,” he
said. And then, because he was feeling hot and bothered and more
than a little off center, he added, “I suppose there is some other
social obligation that I need to attend to?”
    She narrowed her eyes. “There’s nothing
stopping you from changing your mind about the dance.”
    “I don’t go back on my word,” he said.
    She stared at him. “And I don’t like being
referred to as an obligation.”
    He counted to ten. Twice. “Fine.”
    She rubbed her hands together, like she was
rubbing off sand. “Great. Now can we talk about something
important? Aunt Freida thinks someone tried to break into the store
last night.”
    “What?” He forgot about being irritated with
her.
    “The back door was damaged. She found it when
she was putting away stock this morning. After you’d come and
gone.”
    Bart raised a finger. “Jed, I’d be happy to
walk back with Bella and have a look-see.”
    It would be easier to let Bart handle it. He
could wash his hands of this woman. For the time being anyway. But
Freida was his friend. And Mantosa was his town. He doubted that
someone had actually tried to break into the store—everybody in
town liked and respected Freida—but if his friend was worried, then
he’d go assure her it was nothing to fret about. “I’ll do it.”
    He grabbed his coat and hat from where they
hung near the door and put them on. He opened the door and motioned
for Bella to go first. Once they were both outside, he closed the
door behind them. He turned to walk toward the Mercantile and she
turned the other direction.
    “Where are you going?” he asked.
    She frowned at him. “If you must know, I’m
spying on the competition.”
    “What?”
    “Aunt Freida wants me to check out the prices
at Saul’s.”
    He shook his head. “I don’t know why she even
worries about him. They don’t carry the same items.