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.”
She laughed, finding herself slowly relaxing in his company. “Then I better not enter the bread competition. So what kind of Western gear should I wear on the big day?”
He looked down at her feet in flip-flops. “Do you have cowboy boots?”
“No,” she said regretfully.
“I could help you choose them. There’s a store in Aspen with a great selection.”
She studied his face, the way he tried not to appear too hopeful, and felt a sudden tenderness that made her blink against tears. “I’d like that.”
“Do you want to go right now? I have some time, if you do.”
She hesitated, feeling a bit silly and awkward, but touched, too. “Okay, let me wash up and change.”
He grinned, and she found herself grinning back. It was a start.
Emily spent the next couple days working as hard as she could. Occasionally, she would glance into her closet at her new cowboy boots, which Joe had insisted on buying for her. They were tooled with daisies up the side, and she felt like a cowgirl in them—like a real resident of Valentine Valley. The time spent with him had been confusing and cautious, but there were moments where they forgot the new reality between them and just chatted. Yet every time he started talking about his family, she found herself steering the conversation away though she wasn’t sure why.
She had another revelation while spending time with Joe. She had at first been offended by his offer of the cowboy boots—though she hadn’t told him. Then it had dawned on her that she’d been so busy trying to be Miss Independence, that it had never occurred to her that that was how people, how family, showed they cared. It had happened so seldom