Hud returned to his desk, settled into the chair that had long since molded to his frame and rolled forward, the keyboard clicking beneath his fingers.
He was looking forward to tomorrow night. The thought of Blair’s smile made his chest tighten in a way he hadn’t felt in a while. She seemed warm andgenuine, and if she was anything like Celine, he already knew she had good instincts about people.
Saturday morning, Hud tore out of the barn on his chestnut mare, the leather saddle creaking beneath him. He tried to ride every morning, even before work, savoring the rush of wind against his face. He’d been up since five, hands working the saddle straps in the dim barn light, and now they moved along the fence line through dew-dampened fields that stretched toward the mountains. There wasn’t much he enjoyed more, except maybe a woman’s soft skin against his.
As the posts flashed by, he thought about tonight. He wanted to know Blair’s laugh, her thoughts, the things that made her tick. He’d never been drawn toward settling down, his bachelor ways worn comfortable as old boots, but Blair had him thinking things he probably shouldn’t be thinking yet.
It was possible she wasn’t looking for anything serious either. Might bolt like a spooked colt the moment things got complicated. He supposed he’d find out soon enough. Tonight was dinner, nothing more, and he’d see how it went before risking the burn of rejection.
The morning sun warmed his shoulders through his flannel shirt as he rode. The sky was clear as glass and it looked to be a warmer day, which suited him fine. Spring was his preference, its promise of renewal sitting well with him. But this was Montana. All four seasons could arrive within a week and nobody in Clifton was surprised by that. They were as tough as the land they loved. After riding back, he led the mare into the barn, slid from the saddle and set about cooling her down.
Chapter Four
Hud pulled into the narrow driveway, killed the engine and sat motionless behind the wheel, heart hammering against his ribs. He wiped his palm on his jeans, took a slow breath and reached for the yellow rose on the passenger seat, its petals soft against his fingertips. The truck door creaked as he stepped out into the cool evening air.
Each step up the concrete walk felt heavier than the last. He crossed the porch and raised his knuckles to the door. When it swung open, his breath caught.
“Damn,” he whispered.
Her dark hair was piled up in a way that looked both elegant and effortless, soft tendrils framing her face. The purple dress hugged every curve before stopping at her knees, the fabric catching the porch light and shimmering. His gaze traveled down to the purple stilettos that made her calves flex in a way that dried his mouth right out. When he finally dragged his eyes back to her face, he found his voice.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. You look very handsome.” She pulled the door open wider and waved him inside.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Hud removed his hat, wiped his feet on the mat and stepped in. He’d made an effort. Dark jeans, a pressed shirt, his best boots. Not a suit, but The Hartland didn’t require one and he cleaned up well enough when it mattered. He handed her the rose. “For you.”
“Thank you. Let me put this in water, grab my purse and we can go.”
“Take your time.” He looked around the livingroom. Cream and burgundy, warm and put together. A staircase led up to the second floor. To his left a fireplace anchored the far wall with a flat screen mounted above it. And plants. Everywhere. Shelves, corners, windowsills, hanging from above.
“Looks like a small jungle in here.” He shook his head.
“I’m a plantaholic. I can never have enough.” She laughed from the kitchen. “This place actually belonged to Abbie McBride. When she moved in with Creed she rented it to Celine, who eventually bought it. Then Celine met Killian and didn’t stay long. I’m renting it from her for now. Still deciding if I want to buy.”
“Big step.”
“I think so too.” She walked toward him and he did his best to keep his composure. She stopped in front of him. “I’m ready.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He offered his hand and she placed hers in it. They stepped onto the porch together and she pulled the door shut behind her. He took her keys, locked up and handed them back, then kept her hand as he led her to the passenger side of the truck and pulled the door open.
Blair smiled and stepped onto the running board, sliding onto the seat. He pushed the door closed, walked around and climbed behind the wheel. He looked at her once before starting the engine and pulling out.
At the restaurant he came around, opened her door and offered his hand. She turned on the seat, took it and stepped down carefully onto the pavement in those stilettos. He kept hold of her hand as they crossed the lot to The Hartland’s glass doors. The place was packed, as usual. He was glad he’d thoughtahead about the reservation.
Inside, a young woman at the podium confirmed their booking with a smile, gathered two menus and led them to a booth.
“Thank you,” Hud said, settling onto the bench.
“Your server will be right with you. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
He looked at Blair.
“White wine. Chardonnay if you have it.”
“Callahan Whiskey on the rocks for me.”
“I’ll be right back.” She headed toward the polished mahogany bar, heels clicking against the hardwood.
