The Cowboy's Hidden Bride, page 7
“Right. Although I’m not selling clothes. This is just a side project. I might wear it for the Fourth of July re-enactment.” Maya exchanged a look with Lance. Inventory? Website? That was way over her pay grade.
“Ooh, I heard the re-enactment’s getting an upgrade this year. I plan to be at the next meeting.”
“Really?” Maya smiled at her. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Autumn Cruz mentioned it when I saw her earlier. She said Mia Matheson told her about it. She told me if I want to be involved, I have to figure out what I can do for a fundraiser,” Avery went on. “Something about there being a real tyrant running the show this year.” She smiled impishly at Lance.
“Hey, I’m not a tyrant.”
“Yes, you are,” Maya told him.
“If it takes a tyrant to save the museum, I’m all for it. I like museums,” Avery said. “And you two should really think about that website. Let me know if you need help,” she added as she handed over her money. “I’m pretty good at that kind of thing.”
“Thanks, we will,” Maya told her.
“I might be back for that coatrack,” James said. “I’ll bring Maud.”
They watched the carriage rumble off.
“I’m not a tyrant,” Lance reiterated.
“Yes, you are,” Maya said. “All you Coopers are bossy.” Olivia certainly had been when they were kids, but Maya hadn’t minded.
“That’s the pot calling the kettle black. Noah’s over every day telling us what to do,” Lance said.
Maya laughed. “Okay, I’ll grant you that Noah’s bossy.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. “Don’t suppose you know how to make a website?” Lance asked.
“I don’t even know where to start. Besides, I don’t need one for the farm stand,” Maya said. “It might not be a bad idea for you, though.”
“Maybe.” Lance shook his head. “Can’t remember the last time I used a computer.”
“Me neither. I’m sure I could learn, but—”
“I’d rather be outside,” Lance finished for her. “Right?”
“Or working with my hands.” Maya grinned at him, remembered they were supposed to be enemies and decided it was much too hot—and he was way too handsome—to keep up an old feud. “Sorry about that stuff I said earlier,” she told him. “I thought you’d come back to fight.”
“It was a good bet,” Lance said easily. “With the heat, everyone’s got a short fuse lately.”
“Some fuses are going to get shorter if our family catches sight of all this.” She indicated the farm stand.
“Then maybe we should give them something to really get mad about.”
And he leaned over and kissed her.
Chapter Five
He shouldn’t have done that.
Lance didn’t know what had gotten into him today. All he knew was that he’d woken up with an urge to work in his woodworking studio, and after rushing through his chores, he’d given into that urge and found the sign he’d brought here taking shape under his hands without needing any guidance from his head.
He’d been surprised to find himself joining forces with Maya for their fundraiser. He had been surprised all over again when she hadn’t forced him away the minute he’d pulled up and started to unload his things. He supposed he hadn’t let her. But the biggest surprise came when he’d watched James Russell—a man who could afford any piece of furniture in the fanciest store in Billings or Bozeman—gaze at the coat stand he’d made with a covetous look.
James would be back for that coat stand, Maud or no Maud; he’d bet his bottom dollar on that.
Maybe his furniture wasn’t as amateurish as he’d always judged it.
“What was that for?” Maya asked sharply when he pulled away from her. She scooted her chair a few inches in the opposite direction for good measure. Her color was high, and although that could be from the heat, too, he didn’t think so.
Maya wasn’t immune to him.
“We made a sale.”
“You’re going to kiss me every time someone buys a pastry?”
“If you’ll let me.” Lance laughed at the look she gave him, but he was prevented from saying anything else when a couple pulled up in a sky-blue pickup, raising a fine sheen of dust.
“Lance—”
“Focus on the customers.” He didn’t want to hear that she didn’t want him kissing her again. She’d kissed him back, and she’d tasted… good.
He’d wanted to do that ever since they’d danced together. Wanted to do a lot more, actually. Maya was so sexy in those little shorts and that knotted-up top, he wished he could get her somewhere private and do a little mutual exploring.
That wasn’t wise, though. He pulled himself together and shifted in his seat. While the woman came to look at Maya’s baking, the man made a beeline for a rocking chair Lance was especially proud of. The design was inspired by one he’d seen in a grainy, black-and-white Civil War–era photo of one of his own ancestors. As he’d worked on the piece, he’d imagined one of his distant family members reclining in one just like it.
“This is exactly what I’ve been talking about,” the man called out.
“Sure it is, Larry,” the woman said, giving Lance a good-natured eye roll. “He has back pains,” she explained, “and they’re very particular. We’ve looked at a hundred different chairs, and none of them suit. I’m half convinced it’s all in his head.”
“I’m serious, Denise,” Larry said. “Haven’t I been saying all along that the others are too curvy? Come look at this nice straight back.”
“In a minute, dear,” Denise called back, looking over a selection of shortcakes.
Lance rose and went over to where Larry stood. He needed the distraction anyway. “You can try it if you like.” He held the chair steady while the old man lowered himself into it carefully. Larry made a satisfied sound as he stretched out.
“It’ll rock more smoothly when it’s on a flat surface,” Lance assured him.
“I’m not too concerned about the rock,” Larry said. “The back is perfect. I feel a decade younger.”
“Nobody a decade younger than you would get this excited about a chair.” Denise walked over with the cake she’d purchased in hand. She gave Lance a warm smile. “Still, if it’ll shut him up, I’ll gladly pay double.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Lance loaded the chair into the bed of Larry’s truck. Larry followed him.
“I’m glad to see a young couple finding a way to get by in these hard times,” he said earnestly. Lance opened his mouth to correct him, then closed it again. It would be awkward to explain, and he kind of liked being paired with Maya, even if the truth was far different.
“Here’s your money.” Denise handed him some bills.
Lance was still standing by the road as the couple drove off. He’d never earned money from his woodworking before. Better yet, it was money that would be put toward finding a new home for the museum. He couldn’t say when the last time was he’d felt a lift like this. Most days were just work, work, work, trying to keep his family’s ranch afloat. He needed to get back to it right now, much as he liked spending time with Maya.
“Things over at Thorn Hill must be worse than I thought,” Maya said dryly. “You’ve been staring at that cash like you just won the lottery.”
Lance put the money in his pocket, suddenly self-conscious. “Surprised something actually sold. That’s all,” he admitted. “I’ve never tried this before.”
“You didn’t correct them when they thought we were… together.”
Was she blushing? Lance chuckled. “Maybe we ought to let people think that; they’d come to our stand in droves just for gossip’s sake.”
Maya’s eyebrows shot up. “Our stand?”
“That’s what the sign says: furniture and baked goods.” He waved a hand at it.
“You’ve got a ranch to run.”
“I can slip out here now and then. Keep you company.”
Her smile nearly undid him. How had he never noticed what a fantastic smile she had?
“You think gossip would help raise our income?” she asked.
His spirits rose. Our income. He liked that. “We’d find a new place for the museum in no time. Sex sells, right?” That’s what Ethan had said.
“Whoa, cowboy. Who said anything about sex?” Maya demanded.
Whoops. He’d better back track a little. Although he was spending a fair amount of time these days thinking about sex with Maya. Probably too soon to let her know that.
“All I mean is, we’re good together.”
Maya’s lips parted, making her look oh, so kissable. Lance plunked down again in the folding chair beside her.
When he leaned closer, she didn’t pull away. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, she leaned closer, too. Lance closed the gap between them—
“What is the hell is going on here?”
Lance jumped straight out of the chair and scrambled around to face Jed Turner, who was hobbling up the lane, his cane swinging. The old man stopped when he came near, took in Lance’s wooden furniture and straightened his bent back in fury.
“Hawk your shoddy wares on your own land!” Jed turned on Maya. “And you. You should know better. Aiding and abetting a Cooper? Shame on you. Best count your profits twice today to see what turns up missing.”
Lance decided to get out while the getting was good, before the octogenarian riled himself into a heart attack. “I’ve got to get back to work anyway,” he told Maya. “Look after my things, will you? I’ll be by later to load what doesn’t sell. Can’t stay out too long or Noah might decide to steal Thorn Hill altogether.”
“Can’t imagine what my nephew would want with that sorry piece of dirt,” Jed called after him.
Lance winked at Maya and left without another word.
“Why didn’t you kick that Cooper off our property? Should pile up this detritus and start a bonfire—except it’s too damn hot.” Jed sat down heavily in the folding chair Lance had left behind, and Maya was concerned to see how red he’d gotten. It was a long walk from the house.
“Have some water and cool down.” She fished a bottle out of the ice chest she had under the table and handed it to him.
“If you can’t take him on single-handedly, call your brother,” Jed went on. “Liam would have him out of here in a jiffy.”
“Lance just came to help raise money to save the history museum.” Maya gave Jed a brief summary of the state of things. “I don’t get over there much these days, but I love that old place, Uncle Jed. I don’t want it shut down, do you?”
“I don’t give a damn about the museum. You two looked mighty cozy when I walked up—like you were about to get a whole hell of a lot cozier—”
She needed to head him off. If Jed got it in his head he’d seen her and Lance about to kiss—which of course he had—there’d never be an end to it. Liam would lose his mind, which they didn’t need, and she’d probably have to quit the Historical Society, which she didn’t want to do.
The only thing Jed cared about was winning the Founder’s Prize—
The Founder’s Prize.
Maya had to laugh. Saved by the feud.
“You should care about the museum,” she asserted. “We have to do more to win the prize, right? That’s what you said. Fixing the library isn’t enough, so I’m going to find a new home for the museum, fund it and make it the best local historical museum anyone’s ever seen!”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’m updating the annual re-enactment. Making it something that people have never seen before.” She was proud of the way her script was turning out so far, after all, even if she was overstating her efforts.
“You’re going to buy someplace big enough to house all that clap-trap?”
“It’s not clap-trap. It’s our town’s history. And our family’s history is all mixed up in it.”
Jed hmphed. “Mixed up is the right term. This town has never appreciated everything our family has done for it. William was one of the best deputies Chance Creek ever had, and so was his father before him. I worked with Abel, you know. Where’s his exhibit in that museum? Where’s all the Turner history? All that’s there is a bunch of trash and teeny-tiny explanation cards you can’t even read. Probably better that way. Bet they’d put you right to sleep.”
“That’s what I’m going to change. I’m going to make the re-enactment better, and I’m going to make the museum better, too.” She had a vision of collecting examples of clothing, furniture and other artifacts. Re-creating pioneer homes and businesses. Sewing reproductions that would allow patrons—children and adults—to dress up and try out old-fashioned life. Expanding it all someday into a living history area like Colonial Williamsburg or—
Jed didn’t look impressed. “What do you know about history, or museums—or writing, for that matter?”
Maya was stung by his immediate dismissal. “More than you think.”
“Whatever. You make sure that Cooper clears his stuff out of here.” He hauled himself out of his seat and turned toward the house.
When Jed was gone, Maya sighed. The quiet had never bothered her before, but after Jed’s scolding and with Lance gone, the lonely stand seemed downright oppressive. No cars approached from either direction, and nothing living stirred in the fields as the sun beat down.
She was already regretting what she’d said to Jed. She wasn’t running the re-enactment, and she wasn’t going to get credit for saving the museum, even if she wrote a script. If Lance sold a few pieces of his beautiful furniture, he’d far out earn the money she could raise through selling baked goods. Jed would seize on her promise, though, and hold her to it.
When she spotted Stella’s truck in the distance, Maya straightened, happy for the distraction. It was Stella’s day off, and she’d been running errands. Maybe she would have some gossip from town.
“Were you grocery shopping?” Maya called out as Stella parked the car.
“And practicing at the range.” Stella lifted a case from the passenger seat and showed Maya through the open window before hopping out. Stella went to the shooting range at least once a week to keep her skills sharp. She’d always liked target practice.
“How are sales?” Stella came over and eyed Lance’s wooden furniture. “What’s all this?”
Maya filled her in, bracing herself for her sister’s reaction. Maybe it would have been better if Stella had driven directly up to the house.
“Lance made all of these?”
Maya could understand her skepticism. “He’s selling them to raise money for the museum.”
Stella picked up a carved wooden serving bowl. “Got to admit this is pretty. Who thought he had it in him?” She turned it over, looked at the little stick on price tag and frowned. “Too expensive for me.” She put it down and picked up a small carved box.
“I figured we might as well work together just this once.” She held her breath, hoping that would satisfy her sister.
Stella gave her a speculative look. “You really think Lance is going to all this trouble because he cares about the town’s history? Or does he have something else in mind?” Her raised eyebrow made it all too clear what she meant.
“Stop being so suspicious.” Maya hoped she wasn’t blushing.
Stella laughed. “Comes with the territory. He’s a Cooper, or did you forget that? And I saw you two dancing at the wedding.”
“I saw you dancing with Steel,” Maya retorted a little too quickly. “Are you two an item now?” If Stella thought she was flirting with Lance, there’d be hell to pay. She was only laughing now because she thought the idea was so outrageous. Stella was adamant in her belief that the Coopers should be kept at arm’s length, despite Noah’s marriage to Olivia.
“No.” Stella’s tone was scornful. “That was definitely a one-time thing.”
“Exactly. And no, I didn’t forget.” She knew exactly how problematic it would be for her to develop feelings for Lance. She simply didn’t know how to stop it from happening.
God help her.
He’d kissed her once. Had almost done it again.
She’d almost let him.
Wanted him to do a whole hell of a lot more than that, if she was honest. She was in trouble, Maya realized. Now that her libido had woken up, it was taking over her common sense. “Anyway, I’m working on a script for the re-enactment,” she added defensively. “Maybe if I can save the museum, it could help us win the Founder’s Prize.” There she went again, making trouble for herself. She was going to find herself in a real fix if she didn’t stop it.
“We’re already fixing the library. Isn’t that enough?” Stella put the box down and came to look over Maya’s baked goods.
“Jed doesn’t think so.”
“Jed’s bored and wants to start trouble. We need to stop tilting at windmills and start focusing on our cattle operation and how we’re going to bring in enough money to get through the winter. Liam’s organic certification idea is interesting, but it’s going to take years.” She waved her hand at the pastries laid out across the stand. “You should be giving all the profits to our ranch, not the museum. Maybe it’s time to think about keeping your stand open seven days a week.”
Was Stella kidding? “That’s impossible. It takes me all day to cook for a sales day. We’ve got one oven, remember? And I still have to tend my garden and do chores.” And have a little time left over for a life. She didn’t say that out loud, though. They were all working as much as they could.
“Maybe you should close the stand and get another job. One that pays better.”
“Like what?”
“Noah helped me get my job at the sheriff’s department. Maybe he can get you something, too.”
Maya noticed the twist of her sister’s lips, and she wondered if Noah had ever asked himself if Stella wanted to be a secretary. Stella was a crack shot. She was smart. Calm in a bad situation. Why wasn’t she a deputy—or at least a parole officer, like he was?
