Page 19 of Wanted by the Lawman

Very carefully, she peered through the window, through the curtain. The space he occupied was now empty.

What had she been thinking?

The yoga session forgotten, she was fully aware of her nudity, so she slipped into a T-shirt and yoga pants, a little too late, and pulled her wild hair into a top-knot, brushed her teeth and called it done. She wouldn’t be leaving the house today. She had a list of projects that needed fixing and she planned to do as much as she could do herself. Purchasing the paints and plumbing supplies, she should be able to manage. Although she had money in a tin can in the cabinet, she planned to only dip into the cash if necessary. She wasn’t to that point yet. Her savings had enough that she could live modestly for a few more months, if she watched her budget, since she sold some of her jewelry to a pawn shop. Once the house was livable, she would buy herself some new business cards and spread the word that she had spots available for clients. Not sure how many people out here in the mountains of Wyoming wanted a home designer, she would take any job, no matter how big or small. She wasn’t afraid of getting her name out there. She just had to find someone willing to give her a chance. Maybe she’d have to apply to a few of the shops downtown.

Downstairs, she poured water and coffee granules into her one-cup machine and set it to start. She limited herself to only one cup a day, otherwise the caffeine sparked her into overdrive mode, and when she dropped, she dropped like a lifeless fish.

With cup in hand, she ambled her way down the hall and into the living room, then stopped. She felt a cold draft on her face. The low humming told her the heater still worked. As she took another step in the shadowed room she saw that the door was open a few inches.

Placing her cup on the bookshelf, she went to the door and turned the knob. She was certain she’d locked it last night before she had gone to bed.

Peering out onto the porch, she saw a new set of footprints that disappeared into the area of the walkway that she’d shoveled yesterday.

~~~**~~~

The pounding brought Zander to the window to look out. Standing on the porch with her hands planted on her hips and a frown on her face was his neighbor. He was glad she’d decided to put some clothes on before she went out into the chilly outdoors. Although he thought it might teach her a lesson of the importance of dressing warmer, which she seemed incapable of, he couldn’t bear the thought of her freezing. So, he opened the door. “Can I help you?”

She met his gaze and his heart gave an odd stutter. Not quite painful, and not exactly pleasure. He’d experienced the sensation before, but not for years.

She didn’t wait for an invitation and stomped in, stood about two feet in front of him, her pale blue eyes glistening. He closed the door with his foot but didn’t make any effort to take a step back. He inhaled sharply, taking in her scent which reminded him of cinnamon spice tea. He opted for a smile instead of entertaining her obvious upset.

“Were you at my house this morning?”

He blinked. “No. Why?”

She hesitated. “I-I was checking because my door was open this morning.”

“Maybe you didn’t close it all the way. Old doors tend to stick.”

“Well, sure, but they have to be closed to stick and that wouldn’t explain the set of footprints in the snow, now would it?”

His chuckle made the corner of her lips dip further into a scowl. “It wasn’t me. Maybe it was someone else because if you haven’t heard,” he leaned in to whisper, “we aren’t the only two living in Crooked Creek.”

Her cheeks turned rosy. “So, let me ask, did you send the man who had the load of wood and the guy who gave me a new furnace for almost nothing?”

“How about we discuss this over a cup of coffee?”

“Are you positive it wasn’t you who opened my door?”

He caught a glimpse of fear in her eye. “Listen, I have better things to do than sneak around bitter women’s houses.”

Moisture filled her eyes and suddenly he felt like a big jerk. She crossed her arms over her breasts and that’s when he noticed the bruised cut on her hand. “Hey, let me see that.”

“What?” Her voice trembled.

“Your hand.”

She dropped her arms to her sides. “It’s fine. Just a scratch.”

“I’m sure it is but humor me.”

She seemed reluctant to oblige, but finally she held it out. When they touched his blood warmed.

He was being foolish. Sure, he was attracted to her, but at thirty-five he knew better than to allow himself to get all hot and bothered over just any beauty. It wasn’t easy to ignore how cute she was when angry. At least he didn’t see anything suspicious in her background check besides she had a lead foot. A couple of speeding tickets didn’t make her a criminal which made his first theory about the fake money right.

“Where did you get this?” he asked as he examined the swollen, delicate skin around her knuckles that were a nasty blue in color and the red cut.

“I learned a valuable lesson. Hammers are only meant to pound nails, not hands.”

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