Page 54 of Winter Vows

“That was before I knew you,” she said dismissively.

“What exactly are you saying here?”

“Just what I said earlier, I trust you. I trust you not to play games with me. I trust you not to toy with my feelings. I trust you to be honest with me.” She was regarding him with such utter sincerity that Hardy had no choice but to believe her. On some level he was absolutely humbled by her declaration. On another level, it scared him spitless. It was the kind of fervent statement that a man had to live up to. He wasn’t one bit sure he could.

How could he be honest, when he didn’t understand his own feelings? How could he not play games, when playing games was all he’d ever done? He met Trish’s gaze, saw the warmth in her eyes—the trust—and wondered what he’d ever done to deserve it. He also knew he would turn himself inside out before he would ever knowingly do anything to let her down.

Trish spent the rest of the week thinking about her date with Hardy. He had lived up to every one of her expectations. He had been thoughtful, sensitive and sexier than any man had a right to be. He had also been a perfect gentleman, giving her no more than a perfunctory, chaste kiss when he’d dropped her back at Kelly’s after the movie. Every wildly rampant hormone in her body had protested the slight. She had anticipated another one of those mind-numbing, sizzling kisses. Apparently all that talk of trust had cooled his ardor.

Which was just as well, she assured herself, throwing herself into unpacking the boxes of books that had arrived at the store that morning. It was exactly what she had wanted, a pleasant evening with no pressure.

So why did she still feel thoroughly frustrated and cranky days later? Maybe it was because she hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of Hardy since that night. Maybe it was because despite all her claims to the contrary, she had enjoyed his attention, had basked in the flirting and the sexual tension that sizzled between them whenever they were in the same room.

She heard the bell over the front door ring and glanced up from the stack of books she’d been sorting. Harlan Adams filled the doorway.

“You and that boy turned this place into something real special,” he declared approvingly. “Mind if I come in and take a peek around?”

She grinned because he was already inside and actively poking around when he asked.

“It is your building. I suppose you’re entitled to a sneak peek,” she told him.

She watched warily as he moved slowly around the store, taking in everything. He paused by a table of bestsellers, studied the jackets of several books, then nodded approvingly.

“Good selection.”

“Thank you.”

“You have anything in here by Louis L’Amour?”

“I’ve ordered everything I could. They’re in one of these boxes I haven’t unpacked yet.”

“Good. There’s nothing like a Western to relax a man at the end of a long day. Pick out a handful for me and send ’em on out to the ranch.”

“What if I pick ones you’ve already read?”

“Probably will,” he told her. “I think I’ve read most of them at one time or another. Still enjoy reading them. It’s like visiting with old friends. You get together over the years, tell the same old tales, laugh at the same jokes, but there’s something satisfying in the repetition and in the sharing.”

Trish wished she had old friends to share things with. She’d lost touch with most of the women she’d known in Houston. Her brothers had been her best friends, and she was cut off from all of them except Dylan.

“You’re a very wise man, Mr. Adams.”

“Harlan, girl. I keep telling you nobody around here thinks of me as anything else.”

“I feel I should be more respectful,” she told him.

“That’s because your folks raised you right. Okay, then, call me Grandpa Harlan, like the rest of your generation. Will that give me the respect you figure I should have?”

Trish was deeply touched by the offer. “If you’re sure.”

“I am. As far as I’m concerned, you’re one of the family.”

“Thank you.”

He moved to one of the chairs in front of the fire and sank into it with an appreciative sigh. “You sure you knew what you were doing when you brought these chairs in here?” he asked. “Seems to me like folks might take such a liking to them, they’d just stay the day.”

“That’s fine with me. I like the company.”

He regarded her intently. “I hear you and Hardy went out the other night,” he said, broaching the subject so casually Trish almost missed the speculative glint in his eyes.

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