Blaylock's Bride. Cait London
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Kallista thought of the lovely old rocking chair, handed down from years ago, the massive plain walnut bed meant to last for centuries. The rocker was meant to hold mothers and babies, the creaking blending with lullabies. With a few cushions, the walnut church pew could be... She braced herself against thinking about Roman’s home and found herself studying the loneliness in his expression. “I’m going to take you down, you know.”
He turned slowly to her. “You’re going to try. I made promises to Boone, and I intend to keep them. If you decide to stay, you can stay here.”
Kallista smiled coolly. “Why, thank you, Roman. That is very nice of you. But I’d much rather stay at Boone’s.”
Roman’s black eyebrows lifted and he reached for his hat. “Fine with me.”
“I’ll be staying and I can watch Boone’s house. I have a little inventory I’d like to complete.” She tilted her head and fed him the challenge as she took a small notebook from her bag and checked the items she had noted remaining at Boone’s. “You could move back here and let me have the house.”
She handed him the notebook, which he scanned. Roman smiled slowly, white teeth gleaming in the darkness above her as he stuffed it back into her bag. His finger traced the strand of hair that crossed her shoulder and he tugged lightly. The lines around his eyes deepened with amusement, his black eyes warm upon her. “Now living apart wouldn’t be any fun, would it? That’s what you’re into, isn’t it? Fun? A thirty-four-year-old woman leading a footloose, carefree life. Working as a dancer, a hotel manager, a conference planner, and now a troubleshooter for Boudreaux, Inc.? No ties, no family, just plenty of road and sky and water.”
He made her roving life seem shallow, without love or roots to anyone, and Kallista tilted her head warningly. “I’ve been around. I make my own way and don’t owe anyone. Except Boone. There hasn’t been reason to stop.”
“Uh-huh.” Roman gently slapped his thigh and from the shadows two streamlined greyhounds came to his side. He rubbed their smooth heads. The dogs were old, missing teeth, their pelts scarred by beatings. “Boone took in racing dogs who weren’t wanted. Meet Igor and Luka.”
Boone had been legendary for his quiet moods and his kind heart. “I remember them. They’re shivering.”
Roman crouched to rub the dogs briskly, warming them. “They should be wearing their coats—little knitted sweaters that Else made for them. I’ll take them back to the bunkhouse.”
She reached to pet their heads and Roman’s big hand caught hers as he stood. “They sense your anger. Dusty and Titus will, too. Keep them out of this. I made a promise to Boone, and I’m going to keep it. This is between you and me and Boone. Understand?”
“What was that promise?” Kallista shot at him, looking for angles to destroy his grasp on Boone’s land.
Roman released her hand and jammed his big hands into his gloves. “That is between Boone and me and my wife—if I many again. That’s not likely.”
“No. You wouldn’t like the confines of marriage, now that you have what you want.”
“I don’t want a whole lot of what comes with marriage,” he said flatly.
“If there is a woman sharing Boone’s house with you—and his bed—get her out...or I will.”
Roman’s hair gleamed as he tilted his head. “You’ve got a suspicious mind and a fast mouth. When I live with a woman, she’ll wear a wedding band.”
“Yours?” Kallista asked, pressing him, looking for weaknesses.
“Keep it up,” he said mildly, with a tone that said his hackles were lifting, “and you’re headed for trouble.”
“I’ve always liked a good dollop of trouble.”
At eight o’clock on a mid-May morning, Kallista sat at the small desk in the Bisque’s cubbyhole of an office. She’d had two weeks of investigating Roman and organizing the shop as she wanted it. Hannah, and the rest of the Blaylock women had done an excellent job keeping records and maintaining supplies. The paint shelves were well stocked, the brushes cleaned and waiting in individual pots. The shop had a small but adequate income. The residents of Jasmine liked making gifts for loved ones and decorating their homes. After checking the latest bank statement, Kallista had ordered new supplies of greenware—the molded clay shapes that were then smoothed. After baking in the kiln, they were called “bisque,” which was painted and fired again to produce the final product. Both kilns were in working order. The shop was neat and airy, wire soda shop chairs and tables empty now, its shelves filled with standard bowls, cups, lighted Christmas trees and chess sets. Dragons matching the one that had battered Roman Blaylock peered down at her. Bisque ladybugs and turtles waited for painting.
Morganna, married to Jake Tallman and a cousin of the Blaylocks, breezed into the shop with Hannah. Morganna, Jake and their daughters were visiting with the Blaylocks before returning to their Colorado ranch; Jake, a cousin of the Blaylocks, had been orphaned and the Blaylocks had claimed him as one of their own.
Hannah carried a big box, and Morganna, oblivious to the darkening damp spots on her blouse, a sign that she was a nursing mother, clutched a grocery sack. After warm hugs, Morganna, a city executive turned ranch housewife and mother, dug into the box. “A shop warming gift,” she exclaimed, retrieving a high-tech cappuccino maker from the box.
“Yummy. Thanks. I’d say this gift is too much, but I’m dying for a cup,” Kallista murmured. Morganna read directions while Hannah and Kallista completed the start-up effort. The aromatic scent filled the shop, and soon three mugs of cappuccino, topped by whipped cream, sat on a table.
“Bagels, too.” Hannah placed bagels on napkins and plopped a carton of strawberry cream cheese onto the table. She stuck a spoon in it and grinned. “Dig in. What do you think about the shop?”
“You did a good job. Everything is in order.”
Hannah surveyed the shelves and the neat shop. “We tried. We couldn’t take time to develop new ideas, so everything is running as you left it Boone liked to come in here and watch, just watch, as if he were happy that others were happy. He liked to hold Delilah, our baby. He was such a—”
Kallista couldn’t sit still; the mention of Boone caused the tear in her heart to widen painfully. She stood slowly, cradling the mug that had been made in the shop. “Roman Blaylock is living in Boone’s house.”
Hannah spoke softly. “He took care of Boone in that last year. I think it gave him purpose. But Boone gave Roman something, too. A sense of belonging. He lost some of that with Debbie and kept to himself. It was as if he felt shamed that his marriage didn’t work, the only Blaylock to be divorced. We’ve tried to—”
“I don’t want to know about Roman’s pride,” Kallista stated flatly and ran her finger over the top of a bisque chess knight.
“I’d heard you’d already tangled with him two weeks ago. You took right up where you left off—Jasmine is still talking about the time you slapped him and that kiss,” Morganna purred silkily. “It appears that you two had a busy night, and disturbed Dusty’s and Titus’s sleep. The next morning, Roman slammed into the barn looking like a thundercloud. And at just the mention of his name, you look as though you’d like to tear something apart other than that bagel you’re shredding—”
Morganna’s gaze snagged on the long, tall cowboy leaning against the pickup outside. Her eyes widened and her lips parted as she licked them. She took a deep breath and sighed dreamily.
Hannah laughed outright. “Love. She can’t wait to get her hands on her husband. Two months after Feather’s birth, he’s looking more worn-out than she is.”
“I’ll be back. Glad you like the cappuccino maker,” Morganna said, hurrying out of the shop. At the doorway, she slowed, straightened her blouse and