A Town Called Valentine(105)

“A bit. I’ve given up hope that it’ll ever be what it once was, but if we can make the holidays less tense, I’ll be content.”

Emily’s cell rang, and she glanced at it. “It’s Nate.”

“Gee, he only just dropped you off, right? Guess he can’t get enough of you.”

“Or he feels sorry for me.”

Monica rolled her eyes. “Take the call. I think I have a customer.”

Emily stared at the phone, then sent it to voice mail. She couldn’t talk about this anymore. Ever since she’d arrived in Valentine Valley, she felt like the butt of everyone’s pity. She could handle this on her own.

The next day, after a lunch shift at the flower shop, Emily was painting behind the restaurant bar when she heard a knock at her front door. She popped up and saw a man outside, his face shadowed by the building. Wiping her hands on a clean rag, she came around and realized that Joe Sweet had come to call. Her stomach did a little spasm. She’d done a good job putting him out of her mind. Perhaps it hadn’t been so easy for him to do the same.

She opened the door and smiled tentatively at him. “Hi, Joe.”

He circled his cowboy hat slowly in his hands, even as he nodded at her. He studied her too closely, too eagerly, and Emily felt her shoulders stiffen.

“Hi, Emily. Mind if I see your place?”

She stepped back, and, as he came inside, she found herself relieved that no one else was with him. Relieved? Shouldn’t she be curious? She had brothers and a sister! And a stepmother . . .

“This place looks a lot different than I remember it,” he said, looking around. “I didn’t eat at the last restaurant.”

When he seemed almost apologetic, she laughed. “When you have a place like the Sweetheart Inn, why would you eat anywhere else?”

“Oh, believe me, I eat at a lot of different places. I’m pretty involved in the restaurants around here.”

“Nate said you’re a proponent of organic farming?”

His eyes lit up, and he started talking about healthy eating and slow food, and what pesticides did to the environment. Emily let him ramble, interested in spite of herself and grateful he was filling what would probably be an awkward silence.

“I’ve been overseeing a garden I helped build at the high school. It’s never too soon to stress the importance of good food to teenagers.” He started circling his hat in his hands again.

“You seem like a busy man, yet you make time for kids. I like that.” She found herself wondering what her childhood would have been like with him in it. No, she wasn’t going there. The past couldn’t be changed.

“Do you have kids?” he asked.

She hesitated, not wanting to explain her baby’s death before she had ever taken a breath. “I’d like to someday, though. Sadly, I’ve already been divorced.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She gave him a tour of the kitchen, then took him upstairs.

He grinned. “I like what you’ve done with the place. It seems homey.”

She’d really created that feeling all by herself, she thought with wonder, then heard herself saying—and meaning it, “It’s been good to be here.”

He looked out the front window. “You can’t see the park from here, but you know the pavilion?”

She nodded.

“The ladies of the preservation fund have been working with me on putting a farmer’s market there this summer. Nate’s been pretty involved with it.” He glanced at her with a hint of speculation.

“I don’t know how he has the time,” she said blandly.

“Time, money—he gives whatever he can. He’s active in the preservation fund.”

Is he? she thought, trying not to show her curiosity. It was none of her business. But at least he was using his money for good, helping make Valentine better for everyone. Because you couldn’t tell by his old pickup and basic denim wardrobe that he might be worth something more substantial.

“And then there’s the rodeo,” Joe continued.

She wasn’t making this easy for him, but she didn’t know how to do that. “It’ll be my first.”

“You’ll have a good time. All the women wear their finest Western gear, even if they’re not competing.”

“I hear I can enter the baking contest.”

“Well that’s good! Not sure you can beat my wife’s apple bread, but you can try.”