“Fine. I have moved back to Salvation Falls for good.”
“For good?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He had a sinking feeling if she stayed put he’d spend the rest of his days reveling in his stupidity every time she came within sight.
“Yes. I plan on opening my own business.”
“And what business might that be?” And when had she become Little Miss Entrepreneur? She had never expressed an interest in running her own business before. Before, she’d wanted to get married, have babies. His babies. And as stupid as it sounded even to his own ears, the idea that she no longer wanted that felt like a betrayal. He really was losing his grasp on his sanity.
“A dress shop.” Her chin lifted and pride shone past the irritation in her eyes. “I design and sew my own creations, as well as patterns I have sourced from Paris. I owned a successful dress shop in Boston and now I plan on doing the same here.”
Hunter tried to marry the idea of the sweet, loving girl he had known with the confident businesswoman who knew her own mind and was willing to give him a piece of it with little provocation. It created a strange dynamic, a potent infusion that made him want her even more for reasons he couldn’t even determine.
“I see.”
“So glad to hear it. Will you remove your foot from my door now please?”
“Is there a problem here?”
Hunter turned, the movement forcing him to remove his foot from where he’d propped it against Meredith’s door. Coming up the hallway was the gentleman who’d arrived in town a little over a week ago. Bannerman...? Baxter...? Bancroft. That was it. Anson Bancroft.
“Mr. Bancroft.” Hunter looked up at him. He had to. Even at six feet, the man had a good half foot on him. A person could get a crick in the neck holding a long conversation with this man. Not that he seemed prone to long conversations. The most Hunter had ever gotten out of him was a nod of the head in passing. Hunter did the same now to the two well-dressed ladies who flanked either side of him. “Mrs. Bancroft. Miss Bancroft.”
“Oh, good evening, Sheriff Donovan. You remember Charlotte, of course.” He didn’t, given that they had never been introduced, but that little detail didn’t seem to derail Mrs. Bancroft. “Say hello to the nice sheriff, Charlotte.”
Charlotte tilted her head and gave him a half smile he recognized as forced. From the look of her, trussed up like a doll with not a hair out of place and an expression of bored superiority resting on her pretty features, Hunter guessed she didn’t often deign to fraternize with someone as lowly as the town sheriff. Although he was certain if she knew he was set to inherit one of the largest ranches in the area she’d sing a different tune.
Given the way Mrs. Bancroft continued her jabbering, she already knew which way the wind blew on that account. “And how are you this evening, Sheriff? Such a lovely evening. We thought we might all take a stroll before supper. Perhaps you would like to join us?”
“Uh, thank you, but no.” He gave his most charming smile to soften the refusal. “I’m afraid I’m on duty tonight, ma’am.”
“Oh, of course, of course.” She tapped his arm with her folded fan and tittered. “Such a horrible thing, this trial. Best to see the man pay for his crimes, I say, but I’ll leave that to the men to decide, of course I will.”
Bancroft ignored his wife’s chatter, a habit Hunter suspected he used on a regular basis out of self-preservation, if nothing else. Instead, his gaze landed on Meredith. “Are you all right? Miss Connolly, is it?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. Sheriff Donovan was, in fact, just leaving. Weren’t you, Sheriff?”
It angered him how much he missed hearing her call him by his name. Sheriff Donovan made it sound like they were strangers, and they were far from that. He didn’t care how many years had passed.
Burrowing past his anger, however, was the sudden realization that Bancroft had referred to her by name. Strange, given she had only just arrived.
“Do you know each other?”
Bancroft’s gaze hit him full force and a strange chill reverberated up his spine. The man was an imposing figure, Hunter would give him that, but this was something else. This was instinct telling him to pay attention, but to what?
“I ran into Mr. Trent. He indicated Miss Connolly had recently returned to town.”
The explanation was reasonable. He himself had watched Bertram Trent meet Meredith at the hotel and see her inside. And yet...
“If you do not require assistance I will bid you good evening, Miss Connolly.” Bancroft touched the brim of his hat and strode down the hallway, his wife dithering after him, his daughter bringing up the rear, her pace much more sedate.
He turned back to Meredith. She had started to close the door. He stopped the door with his hand this time, garnering another glare.
“What now?”
“I don’t believe we were done with our conversation.”
“I’m quite certain we were.”
She was probably right. There wasn’t much else to say. He’d asked his questions and she’d reluctantly answered. He was stalling, not ready to cut the fragile connection, one-sided as it was. “So you’re staying. Opening your own business.”
“Yes.”
“That’s it?”
“Oh, well, there is one more thing on my agenda.”
The way she said it, the corners of her mouth curling upward, made the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention. It made other parts of his body take notice too, but he was trying to ignore them.
“And that is?”
“I plan on proving my father’s innocence once and for all.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting exactly, but it hadn’t been that. His hand fell away from the door and he took a step back. Meredith didn’t hesitate. She took the opportunity to slam the solid oak door in his face, missing his nose by a mere inch.
* * *
Meredith slid down the door. The damask silk of her dress scraped against the smooth wood and bunched on the floor at her feet. Her fingers shook as she plucked at the buttons lining the front of her dress. When she’d freed enough of them she switched her attention to the hooks holding her corset together. She’d often bemoaned her slight frame, but for now she was thankful she didn’t have to cinch her corset within an inch of her life to create the illusion of a small waist. It allowed her the ability to pop the hooks without too much struggle. Bit by bit the constriction released, but her breath did not come any easier.
Why had he insisted on coming over here? What had he hoped to accomplish? Hadn’t he caused her enough grief upon her exit from Salvation Falls? Was it truly necessary for him to heap more upon her now that she had returned? She knew she had to face him sooner or later, there was no way around it, but could he not have allowed her to arrange the meeting on her terms, in her own time. When she was ready.
Would she ever have been ready?
She closed her eyes, but the images that riddled the back of her lids did nothing to ease her state of anxiety. Tangled bodies, hungry mouths, searching hands.
Her eyelids flew open and she popped a few more hooks for good measure. Her skin burned, scalded by his nearness, by the unexpected assault on her senses. It wasn’t fair.
But perhaps expecting fairness from the likes of Sheriff Hunter Donovan had been overreaching. If fairness had been a part of his