Cattleman's Courtship. Lois Dyer Faye
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the least likely to wed.”
“I don’t imagine that’s surprising, given their background.” Victoria frowned at the bottle of beer Lonna handed her. Her own life as a well-loved daughter had been quiet and safe. She’d been an intense, focused child who’d known from the time she was eight years old that she would become an attorney. Boys and dating hadn’t been an important issue, and she’d never known anyone quite like Quinn Bowdrie. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from Quinn, but to have him reject her before she had a chance to decide, and for reasons that had nothing to do with her personally, was frustrating. “So much for cowboys—I should have known better,” she raised the bottle, swallowed with an unladylike gulp and choked. “Yuk! What is this stuff?”
Lonna laughed, her eyes twinkling at the look of disgust on Victoria’s face. “Beer—would you rather have wine?”
“No,” Victoria said with grim resolve. “I’m stuck in Montana for the next year—I’ll learn to drink beer. Straight from the bottle.” She closed her eyes, took another sip, and shuddered.
“I think it may take awhile.” Nikki said dryly.
Lonna nodded. “I think you’re right.”
Chapter Two
O ver the next two weeks, Victoria threw herself into a frenzy of activity transforming the apartment she had rented in the old Victorian house next door to Nikki’s home into a welcoming nest. In the end, she was well satisfied with her home.
The activity focused her, gave her a purpose to fill her days and kept her too busy to fret over her problems. Her life as a child, teen and a young adult had been goal-oriented. She’d known from the day her uncle John had taken her and Lonna to the courthouse to watch his friend Hank Foslund plead a case that she would be a lawyer when she grew up. During her childhood, Victoria’s father had driven his family from Seattle to his brother’s home in Colson to spend their three-week summer vacation. She and Lonna were as close as sisters, and Victoria’s parents often gave in to the girls’ pleas to allow Victoria to spend an extra month with her cousin after they returned to Seattle. Many warm evenings had found the cousins challenging the widowed attorney to checker marathons on the screened porch. Those long summer evenings had cemented their friendship and her own resolve to practice law.
Now her health and her doctor’s edict had taken away her career. Granted, it was a temporary situation, but still she felt cut adrift, anchorless and without purpose.
Victoria didn’t like it, and she was determined to get her life back on track. The hiatus from her work was frustrating. So she threw herself into working on the apartment, clerking at her uncle John’s pharmacy and filling in for Hank. Business at the law office was slow, for all of his clients knew that Hank had left on a much-needed vacation. Fortunately for Victoria, however, Hank’s files were a disaster. She discovered that there was apparently no rhyme nor reason to his filing system, in fact, she couldn’t decipher any system at all. Satisfied that here was a project that would test even her fierce need for involvement, she dived into the years of files and documents that filled the cabinets in Hank’s office.
Busy though she was, however, she found thoughts of Quinn Bowdrie intruding all too often. Irritated to find herself remembering the handsome rancher and the kiss they’d shared, she determinedly pushed the memory aside. Still, she found she couldn’t banish him from her dreams.
Just after lunch one afternoon, Victoria bent from the waist and ran a feather duster over a bottom shelf in the cosmetics section. Dennings Pharmacy was enjoying a pleasant lull after a busy morning. The early afternoon sun poured through the plate-glass windows at the front of the store, glittering off the decorative glassware, bottles, and colored jars displayed in the deep window embrasures. Victoria had already dusted and efficiently reorganized the display before moving on to the aisle counters.
Humming along with the country music playing softly on the radio, she brushed the feather duster over a jewel-toned collection of bottles filled with nail polish. The store was quiet except for the low murmur of voices as a customer chatted with her uncle John at the pharmacy counter in the back of the store.
The jingle of bells that hung on the front door interrupted the soft music and Victoria stood, glancing across the store at the entrance. The small drugstore boasted only six aisles, the displays and shelves low enough for her to see over the top and across the width and length of the store from front to back.
That’s odd. I’m certain I heard someone come in.
Her tennis shoes made no sound on the waxed tile floor as she walked to the end of the aisle. She rounded the end display and stopped in midstride. Her pulse accelerated and irritation warred with attraction before distraction won.
Quinn Bowdrie was halfway down the aisle, talking to an adorable, wide-eyed toddler. He sat on his heels, one knee touching the floor, his forearm resting on the other bent knee. A grey Stetson was pushed back off his forehead, revealing thick black hair. A pair of sunglasses crowded a pocket of his blue chambray work shirt, and faded jeans, worn white at stress points, molded the heavy muscles of his thighs.
“I got a car,” the little boy announced importantly, and he held out one chubby hand, palm up.
“So you do.” Quinn took the miniature red metal car from the little hand and balanced it on his palm. “That’s a pretty nice set of wheels. Do you know what kind it is?”
“Yup—it’s a ’Far-ee.”
Quinn turned the die-cast metal car over and read the imprint.
“You’re absolutely right,” he said. “Ferrari—that’s what it says.”
“Where?”
The little boy stepped closer, stumbling over Quinn’s boot, and he moved quickly to steady the small body, his hand splayed across the child’s back.
Unnoticed by either of the two males, Victoria watched a rare, gentle smile break across Quinn’s hard face as he looked at the child.
“Careful, partner.” His voice was a deep-throated murmur, his big hand gently patting the small back reassuringly before he gravely inspected the little boy’s offering.
The child peered at the car in Quinn’s hand, studying the imprinted letters. “Right there?” He asked, tracing the upraised letters. “That says ’Far-ee?”
“Uh-huh. How did you know this car is a Ferrari?” Quinn asked him.
“My daddy told me.” The little boy said, nodding emphatically. “It’s my favorite car—see, it’s red.”
“Ah.” Quinn nodded sagely. “I see.”
This is the tough rancher who has no heart? Victoria thought with amazement. Watching the big man with the small boy brought a lump to her throat. She stood motionless, silently observing the two dark-haired heads bent together over the miniature car until Quinn glanced up. His green eyes darkened, an unnamed emotion flitting briefly across his hard features before his expression turned unreadable.
He slipped an arm under the little boy’s denim-clad bottom and stood in one smooth motion, the child seated safely on his arm.
He didn’t say anything. Victoria considered turning her back and walking away from him but thought better of the impulse.
“Hello.”
“Hello.” Quinn knew the moment he looked up and saw Victoria that he’d been lying to himself. He hadn’t been able to forget her, nor the kiss they’d shared on the shadowy dance floor, despite the fact that he’d never met an attorney he liked. And he downright detested pushy, aggressive female lawyers. He’d been moody, irritable and restless for the last two weeks. His gaze flicked down her body, noting the blue smock with Dennings Pharmacy embroidered over the upper swell of her left breast. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here.” Victoria’s memory of black hair, green eyes, tanned skin and a muscled, broad body wasn’t exaggerated.