Her lips twitched. “I don’t have to. You’re not very subtle.”
“It’s good to see you again,” he said, serious this time. He reached out his hand to shake hers, daring her to touch him. And when she did, the warmth from her hand traveled up his arm like an electric current. Their gazes locked and they stood frozen, waiting to see who would let go first.
“You’d better go,” she said quietly, releasing his hand and taking a step back. “Your mother is trying to reach you. You should probably answer her call.”
Right on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw his mother’s name on the screen.
“I don’t suppose you want to tell me what she’s going to say so I can have a good answer ready.”
“Nope, you’re on your own with this one. My advice would be to just stay quiet and listen. And when she calls you a bonehead, remember she’s doing it out of love.”
“Right. That’s one of her favorites.” He sighed and silenced the phone. “Thanks for the warning, though I’d have preferred the brownies.”
“Goodbye, Beckett,” she said, but there was a smile on her face now, soft and genuine, and he felt lighter than he had in weeks.
He saluted and headed toward the sheriff’s office where he’d parked his truck. But he turned around before she could go inside.
“Oh, and Marnie,” he called out. “I’m going to keep asking. I just wanted to warn you first.”
“As long as you don’t mind that I’ll keep saying no.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
He winked and walked away, whistling softly under his breath. Some women were put on this earth to make men do foolish things.
Marnie Whitlock was definitely one of them.
Chapter Eight
Instead of heading back to his truck and toward home where work was waiting for him, Beckett decided there was no time like the present for foolishness. He veered from his truck back across the street toward the bakery. The pleasure of stepping inside and inhaling fresh-baked bread and pastries was short lived when he saw Denny Trout in line.
Denny was Hazel’s older brother, and he was foreman for the Caldwells over at the Circle C Ranch. Circle C had fallen on rough times the last decade or so, and a lot of people said it was because of Denny. He spent more time gambling than he did doing his job. People also whispered that the reason he hadn’t been let go was because he’d been carrying on with Isobel Caldwell for years—had been since before he became foreman.
Isobel’s husband, George, didn’t seem to mind the arrangement, as he much preferred the company of their young housekeeper to his own wife. The whole situation was the kind of mess that gave small towns their reputation for scandal. Beckett had always thought it was a shame—the Circle C had been a fine ranch once, before the Caldwells let their personal lives get in the way of business.
Maybe if both the Caldwells had been more interested in breeding and selling their cattle at top dollar instead of their extracurricular activities, they wouldn’t be selling off a chunk of land to pay their debts. As it was, Beckett had already made arrangements to purchase that land at a fair price since it bordered the far side of his property.
“Well, look who it is,” Denny said loud enough to get everyone’s attention. The noise from those sitting and enjoying afternoon cups of coffee and sweets died down to nothing.
“Denny,” Beckett acknowledged and then got in the back of the line. The smart thing to do would’ve been to turn around and leave. But his pride wasn’t going to let him back down from a man like Denny Trout.
Denny turned in a slow circle to make sure he had a captive audience. He had a smug grin on his face and Beckett knew this wasn’t going to end well.
“Better watch out, ladies,” Denny called out. “This one here likes to make promises he doesn’t keep. My sister learned that the hard way. Better guard your hearts.”
There were a few uncomfortable murmurs, but Beckett stayed silent and kept his gaze straight ahead.
“Saw you walk over from the new place next to the sheriff’s office,” Denny continued. “By the way you were hanging all over that woman, I’d say you’ve moved on pretty quickly from my sister.”
“Your sister and I went on a couple of dates. That’s all it ever was. I was honest with her from the start.”
“You calling my sister a liar?” Denny said, stepping out of line. “She said you promised her all kinds of things. Marriage and that big fancy house you live in. High and mighty Hamiltons on the hill.”
“If she told you that, then yes, I’m calling her a liar. I never made her any promises. I made that clear from day one.”
Denny charged at him and Beckett was braced for it, but a sharp voice from behind the counter stopped him in his tracks.
“Denny Trout, don’t you lay one finger on him in my shop,” Mrs. Baker said, her voice cracking like a whip. “Do you understand me? I’ll call the sheriff right now if I have to.”
