Goldie had to bite her tongue not to tell them to mind their own business. “The sheriff is a fine man, but we aren’t seeingeach other anymore.” They gave her a look that said they’d been waiting for her to do something about that. She was trying. “What else can I get you, ladies? Perhaps a blueberry muffin to split among the three of you? It’s on the house.”
They turned up their noses as if bribery wasn’t going to shut them up.
“It would be a shame if the sheriff had to spend his life alone,” Penny said and tutted.
“Yes, it would, but it’s his choice,” Goldie said. “I’d better get another pot of coffee going. Let me know if you decide to have breakfast.” The three came in often just to drink coffee and discuss what was wrong with the world. When they did eat, they ate like birds.
Fortunately, as Goldie was making more coffee, the bell over the door tinkled, announcing her first appointment with a possible buyer for the café. She hurriedly led Arnold Adams to a booth away from the three busybodies.
Arnie, as he told her to call him, was a nondescript man of small stature with an all-business demeanor, which was fine with Goldie. He asked a lot of questions about the café as she showed him around and he made her an offer much higher than she’d been led to believe the place was worth.
Something about him made her uneasy. “I’m going to have to think about it since I have several other potential buyers interested,” she told him.
“I’ll be staying at the hotel. I’ll put together a formal offer for you this afternoon. If you get a better offer, give me a chance to counter it.” With that he left, and she went back to see if she could get the ladies anything else.
“You’re really going to sell Goldie’s?” Carla Wilson asked, clearly upset.
“Surely not to that man,” Penny said, turning her nose up as she watched Arnie leave. “The least you could do is sell to someone local.”
“I’m selling to whoever makes the best offer,” Goldie said more to herself than to them. “I’m sure whoever buys it will be just fine.” The look from the three women told her they didn’t agree as she walked away, rankled by everyone’s attempt to tell her what to do with her life.
She reminded herself that all of this had begun when she’d decided to do something drastic about her situation. She was beginning to regret it.
At the tinkle of the bell over the door, she turned to see Donovan come in. He looked so handsome, the smile on his face warming her and making her forget for a moment her irritation. As he took a stool at the counter, she was glad to see a friendly face—even one she was paying for.
Last night had been fun. She’d realized that she had needed it. She and Max had lived together as if they were married for five years and yet Max had never even mentioned marriage. Nor had he made any romantic overtures after the first year or so. They’d fallen into a comfortable day-to-day pattern with Max apparently having all that he wanted.
“Give the milk away free and a man won’t see any reason to buy the cow,” Penny Birch had once said to her. Turns out, the woman apparently knew what she was talking about.
Goldie, though, had never questioned that Max loved her, but she’d come to realize that she had asked too little from him. She’d never challenged him, always been agreeable and easy to get along with. He’d seemed afraid of marriage—no doubt thinking of his mother’s last disastrous relationship—so she’d never pushed it.
Believing that love conquered all, Goldie had just assumed that one day Max would ask her to marry him, and they’d have children and live happily ever after.
Maybe love wasn’t enough, she’d come to realize. Or maybe it needed a good hard shove, she thought as she made her way down the counter to Donovan. Max had taken her for granted. But not anymore.
Stopping in front of the man, she leaned on the counter and returned his smile. “What can I get you, Mr. Cole?”
“Just this for starters,” he said as he reached over, cupped her cheek and drew her into a kiss.
The loud, pointed whispers of disapproval from the three elderly women’s booth told her that everyone in the county would soon be hearing about the kiss and Goldie Shaw’s new beau.
Chapter Six
Donovan had been headed for the café this morning when he’d seen the man coming out—and with a start, recognized him. He’d felt a wave of panic, forcing him to look around the quiet main drag of Dry Gulch to see who else from the Mandeville ranch might be around. He hadn’t expected to see anyone he knew in this town, especially not someone he’d seen recently down in Laramie, Wyoming, at the ranch.
What was Malcolm’s private chef doing here? It made no sense. He’d told himself he had to be mistaken. Still, he had ducked into the shadowed alley next to the bank. As he watched Arnie head for the hotel, he’d known this was no coincidence. Malcolm must have sent him to Dry Gulch to find him. Or did Malcolm already know where he was?
His first thought had been to run. Just get in the sports car and get out of this town. His mind had raced. If the crime boss knew where he was and had sent someone here, then Donovan didn’t want to stick around to find out what Arnie had been sent to do.
He’d tried to calm down by thinking rationally. If Malcolm wanted Donovan dead, he would have sent his second-in-command, Luca Havers, here—not that scrawny little cook. The cook had done time in prison, but he was no killer. It had to be a coincidence Arnie was here. Or at least not much of a threat.
After Arnie had disappeared into the hotel, Donovan had gone into the café to take his usual place at the counter. Goldie had smiled that beautiful smile of hers. He’d tried to pretendeverything was fine by kissing her. Not that he hadn’t wanted to do that since he’d arrived in Dry Gulch, and he was now glad he had. Then casually he asked, “Was that a buyer for the café I saw leaving?”
She nodded. “Arnie Adams.” She glanced out the window across the street toward the hotel. “He seems very determined. Said he’ll match any offer.”
It had been Arnie, just as he’d known. But where would the former prison cook get the money to buy the café? And why Dry Gulch of all places? Donovan had no idea why, given how little was here, but what did he know about these things? Nothing.
No, what worried him was that Lolly could show up next—or worse, her father. Not that he thought she cared enough to bother tracking him down since he now knew the real reason why she’d brought him home to the ranch, and it had nothing to do with desire or love, let alone passion. Donovan had been nothing more than a smokescreen to hide her secret and the man she was really in love with from her father.
