Authors: Victoria Dahl
Merry cleared her throat and darted a look at Shane’s truck. Had he told someone he was working for her? Just how pissed would the board be if she admitted that—? Wait a minute. She was buying into the conspiracy theory about mailbox destruction
she’d
committed.
“I can’t think of anything. But listen, Mr. Cannon, if hiring me improves the visuals of this case, wouldn’t moving forward with some of the renovations be even better?”
“Well… Yes, in theory. But we really hadn’t planned for you to…um.” His words, which had started out awkward and hesitant, died into pregnant silence. Her skin crawled with humiliation, but she forced herself to ignore that.
“I understand now that you may have hired me as more of a figurehead than a curator. I’m not saying I’m okay with that, and we’ll have to have a different conversation about it later, but I
can
do this, Mr. Cannon. I may have only been at my previous position for a year, but I was a workhorse, and my superior was…”
As old as you.
“She was easing into retirement, so I carried a lot of responsibility.” She took a breath.
“I’ve already sorted through the wood we have on hand here. I’m not going to go wild and head out to a lumber store for new pine and woodscrews. We’ll use the original wood, and I even found a bucket of handmade nails. They’re rusty, but I’ll be sure that Sh—um…any contractor is up-to-date with tetanus shots, and I’m sure they use gloves, anyway, right? And when we run out of those nails, I found a place online that forges them.”
When she finally stopped to catch her breath, Mr. Cannon sighed. “Merry, listen. I can tell how much you want to work, and I admire that, especially in someone your age, but we—”
“I just want a chance.
Please
. I need a chance. We could get this place up and running faster than you think. The house I use as a base of operations is totally safe. And the saloon only needs a little work. And the church! The church is beautiful. I’m brainstorming a brochure now and—”
“Work on the brochure,” he interrupted, latching onto that idea with a sigh of relief. “Work on that, and I’ll…I’ll talk to the others about freeing up a little money. A
little
.”
“Oh, my God. Thank you. Thank you!”
“I’m not promising anything! You just sit tight, okay?”
“Sure,” she said, her face flushing with guilt.
“And work on a brochure. Holding something like that in their hands could help the board loosen up the purse strings a little.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cannon. I’ll get right on it.”
Merry dragged her chair inside and sat at the beat-up old table Mr. Bishop must have moved in at some point. She’d found little clues like that all over the house, proof that Gideon Bishop had been using the house as an office, gathering up ideas for the ghost town. She’d only poked around gingerly before, too afraid of spiders to settle in, but the sunlight was too bright to do this kind of work outside, so Merry set her iPad on its stand, fired up her portable keyboard and got to work.
She worked so hard she nearly forgot entirely about Shane. She noticed when he stopped in that night to say he was leaving. And she vaguely noticed the next day when he came by around 5:00 p.m. to do a couple of hours of work. She even wandered out once or twice to be sure he was doing only the work they’d agreed on.
But she didn’t go out to watch him hammer, or to marvel at the wide stretch of cloth across his shoulders or the tight wonder of his jeans. She didn’t notice the way hair glinted on his strong forearms when he moved. She didn’t notice any of that until he stopped by on the second night and delivered a moment of grace that hit her like a wave of lust.
“Don’t worry about paying me for this now, all right? Catch me next month.”
“What?” she asked, visions of the brochure fading from her eyes like a clearing fog. She repeated, “What?” in a breathless voice.
“It’s okay. You seemed stressed out, and I don’t want my bill to add to your stress.”
“Oh, I can pay it. You don’t have to—”
“Really, Merry. It’s no problem.”
Well, that was embarrassing. Just the sound of his mouth forming her name gave her goose bumps. Or maybe it was the effect of looking up at him as he stood so close to her. Those shoulders loomed above her. Those forearms flexed as he slipped off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. And this late in the day, his jaw was rough with stubble again. As he moved, she could actually smell him. The laundry detergent on his clothes, and another more intriguing scent: his skin, hot from the sun, a touch of sweat.
Shane cocked his head in question, and she realized she’d been staring up at him as if he was a work of art she wanted to study.
“You’re really sweet, Shane.”
“Ah. Not so much.” His cheekbones flushed a little as his eyes shifted past her. “Is that for Providence?”
“Yes! But don’t look yet.” She covered the screen with her hand. “I’ll finish the layout tonight and then I’ll show you. Okay?”
He smiled. “Sure. Are you going to be here long? I hate to leave you out here alone this late.”
Merry looked out the window to see startlingly long shadows stretching across the sagebrush.
“I’d feel better if you let me walk you out.”
Now Merry was the one flushing. “Thank you, Shane. And thanks for coming out here at all. I know you already put in a full day. It means a lot that you’re doing this for me.”
He picked up the computer stuff as she turned it off. “It’s nothing. No need to thank me.”
God, he was so cute. No matter what he said about not being a real cowboy, he had that modest chivalry she associated with movie cowboys. And that steadiness. That self-possessed silence.
She snuck a look at him as they walked toward her car, noting how much taller he was than her. Four or five inches, maybe. She’d never been with a guy as tall as Shane was, but, then again, she’d never been with most types of guys. Two men did not make a control group.
Regardless, she was intrigued by him. His height and strength, the scarred hands and blunt fingers. What would it feel like to be held by him, to be taken? What would it feel like to be up against a wall with this man’s body pressed against her? With those rough, strong hands sliding up her shirt? Would he—?
When he glanced at her, Merry almost melted in sheer embarrassment. They were friends. Maybe just acquaintances. If he knew she was having those kinds of thoughts about him, he’d likely recoil in horror and find a way to never be alone with her again.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“Sure!” she chirped. “I’m excited.” Excited. Right. “I mean…I can’t wait to finish the brochure layout tonight!”
“Well, I can’t wait to see it.”
“Great!”
She was excited about the brochure. But she was also excited about something very different. Something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Hopefully the layout wouldn’t be her best work of the night.
CHAPTER FIVE
“
O
H
,
G
OD
,
YES
!” she gasped, holding the vibrator up in triumph.
She’d decided she needed it thirty minutes ago. Those thoughts of Shane hadn’t gone away on the drive home. They hadn’t even gone away when she’d tried to work on the brochure. She’d finally decided she needed to indulge her rediscovered lust and go for it while she was still in the mood.
So she’d texted Grace to be sure she was gone for the night. Then Merry had taken a quick shower. Poured a glass of wine. Gulped the wine down and poured herself another. The last step had been finding the vibrator. Three boxes later, and she had that little sucker in her hand.
“Thank God.” She sighed before heading to the kitchen to dig for batteries. And finally, she was ready.
Amazingly she felt almost nervous. Had it really been that long since she’d touched herself? So long that she felt fucking
nervous?
Well, now she was determined.
Merry unfolded her sofa bed, piled on the covers and slid beneath crisp sheets.
Shane was right next door. She’d heard his shower earlier, so Merry imagined him there, naked and wet. God, he must be beautiful. Long and lean and hard. Hard
everywhere
. She’d love to touch him. Run her hands down his slick back. Dig her nail into his naked, taut ass. Press herself into him and stretch like a cat in heat while he—
Merry started and shook her head. No, even if the man were naked and in her shower right now, she could never just climb in there and start manhandling him. Not even in a fantasy. Because what she’d really do is screw up the courage to slip into the shower naked, and then she’d stand there awkwardly while he soaped himself. She’d probably crack a joke. Then make an excuse about how crowded it was and just slip away.
“Stop it,” she muttered to herself, then slid deeper under the covers and shifted the fantasy around.
He’d been in the shower, yes. All soapy and wet and hard for her. But now he was out and drying off, and when he heard her knock, he slipped on a pair of jeans and answered the door in nothing but half-buttoned Levi’s.
“I was just thinking about you,” he said, giving her that dark, unreadable look he did so well.
Merry’s heart sped just as it would have if her fantasy were real. She slipped her hands over her breasts and down her body, feeling nerves shiver to life as she imagined Shane pulling her into his apartment and pressing her to the wall. He put his mouth to her neck and whispered how much he’d been wanting her, how often he’d thought of her. His impatient hands slid beneath her clothes, inspiring nervous gasps that he took as agreement. His skin felt so good that she let herself fall into it. She let him touch her, kiss her, but when he started to push her shirt up and off her body, Merry hesitated.
“Shane, wait. I hardly know you. How can—”
“Please,” he rasped. “I need this. I need you. Just once. Please, Merry. You’ve been driving me mad. I need to taste you.”
Merry turned on the vibrator and gave herself up to the story, just as she gave herself up to his hands in her mind. His hands and mouth and fingers. Oh, God. Yes. His fingers teasing her, then slipping inside her. Driving her crazy until she felt just as mad as he did. Until she was murmuring
yes, yes
when he unbuttoned his jeans and freed his erection. He eased a hand beneath her knee and pulled her leg high as he positioned himself between her thighs.
“Please,” Merry whispered into the empty room. “Please.” She wanted that. Needed it. She slipped the toy farther along her body, sending delicious shivers racing to branches of nerves that hadn’t stirred in so long. Oh, God, yes. This was going to feel so good, a need she’d ignored so long it had seemed extinct. But it was back now, and her hips strained forward as she eased the vibrator inside her body with a whimper of relief.
And then her world came crashing down. Or at the very least, her door sounded like it was about to crash in. Not that the knock was especially loud, but her senses were a little heightened. And the door was only three feet from her head. And she was lying there with her legs spread and a vibrator buzzing.
Merry froze, eyes wide in panic, hoping that if she didn’t move, the wolf wouldn’t spot her through the tall grass.
When the knock came again, she eased her finger over to turn off the vibrator, alarmed by how loud the silence was afterward. Had that buzzing sound filled the whole room? Had it been audible from the hallway? What if it had been—
“Merry, it’s Shane. Are you home?”
Shane?
No. “Yes!” she yelped in complete panic, trying to bite back the word even as her body volunteered it. Her eyes slid over the blankets, noting the shape of her body beneath the covers, knees parted wide, arm disappearing beneath the cozy bedspread at a suspicious angle. Then her gaze moved to the door.
Oh, God.
“I was hoping to see the brochure. Can I come in?”
“Uh…” Merry finally forced her body to let go of its frozen panic and
move
. She pulled the vibrator out of herself with a wince of shock, snapped her legs closed and sat straight. “Uh, sure. Just give me a second.” Why had she spoken? Why hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut and let him leave?
Stupid blind panic. Merry shoved the vibrator under the covers and leaped out of bed to race to the bathroom where she’d left her clothes. “Idiot,” she cursed herself at another misstep. She should have just said no.
No, I’m not dressed, I’ll see you tomorrow.
Except not being dressed had been way too close to the truth:
I’m not dressed and I’m frigging myself three feet away from you. Sorry!
She frantically pulled on her jeans and the yellow Doctor Who T-shirt she’d been wearing earlier, then raced back to the living room to yank the covers tight across the bed.
She took a deep breath, pasted a smile on her face and unlocked the door. “Hey!” she chirped as she opened it just enough to wedge herself between him and the room. “What’s going on?”
“Hey.” His answering smile tipped down a little at the edges. “Are you okay?”
“Sure! Yes. Absolutely. Why?”
“You just… Were you working out?”
“Yes, I was working out!” It was the perfect answer for the sweat prickling her hairline and her rapid breathing. But then his eyes traveled down her body to the jeans and bare feet. “Anyway!” She waved a hand.
“Well…I was thinking about you.”
Merry flashed back to her fantasy so quickly that she felt dizzy. Was he about to grab her? Ravish her? Push her against the wall and slip off her shirt? Would she let him? “Me?” she finally breathed.
“All this work you’re doing for Providence. I’ll admit, it seemed silly at first. I can’t say I understand it or even approve. But now that I’m working out there with you, I’m curious. May I…?”
He gestured toward the door, and Merry automatically opened it, cursing her natural Texas friendliness for digging her even deeper. She watched his gaze focus on the unfolded bed.
“Early night?”
Guilty embarrassment leached from wherever it was the body stored it—spleen? Appendix?—and suffused every cell in her body. “I like to work in bed.” She ignored the fact that her pile of work stuff was still on the kitchen table and grabbed the end of the fold-out bed to flip it back into a couch.