Crossing the room to where she sat, he willed her to look up and smile, or stare or something. Anything other than recoil in horror and disgust. Though he’d been back home almost three months, he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of people who didn’t act as though he was a leper.
He made it all the way to her table without her noticing.
“Enjoying your Shirley Temple?”
When she did raise her head and meet his gaze, he saw her eyes were still the same long-lashed, sapphire blue he remembered.
“It’s a seven and seven,” she said, making him wonder why she bothered to lie. What did she care what he thought?
“Mind if I join you?”
A flash of surprise crossed her face, and then she lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Suit yourself.”
He slid into the booth across from her, taking another long drink of his beer. “Good. I missed that while I was in prison.”
Stirring her drink absently, she nodded. “I imagine there are quite a few things you missed, aren’t there?”
Since she asked the question with a very real curiosity, he felt himself beginning to relax for the first time in what felt like ages. When he’d been in prison, he would have slugged anyone who tried to tell him it’d be a hundred times more tense back home than in the joint, but in reality he thought more about running away than anything else. Except sex. He thought about that a lot. Especially now. Eve Kelley, with her long blond hair and T-shirt, instantly made him think of sex.
No doubt she wouldn’t appreciate knowing that, so he kept his mouth shut, giving her a nod for an answer.
Leaning forward, she studied him. Her full lips parted, making him want to groan out loud. “What did you miss the most?”
A flash of anger passed and he answered truthfully. “The feel of a woman, soft and warm, under me, wrapped around me.”
Her face flamed, amusing him. But to give her credit, she didn’t look away. “I guess I sort of asked for that, didn’t I?”
“No, actually you didn’t.” Chagrined, he offered her a conciliatory smile. “I’m sorry. I think sometimes I’ve forgotten how to act in public.”
“I guess that’s understandable.”
Finishing his beer, he signaled for another one. The bartender brought it instantly, setting it on the table without comment and removing the empty glass.
“My turn.” He leaned forward. “Tell me, Eve Kelley. What are you doing all alone in a bar, nursing a Shirley Temple, with a snowstorm threatening?”
“I needed to get away.” For a moment, stark desperation flashed in her expressive eyes, an emotion he could definitely relate to.
“Holidays aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, are they?”
She shook her head, sending her large hoop earrings swinging in that mass of long straight hair.
Glancing at her left hand and seeing no ring, he took another drink. “I’m guessing you’re not married?”
“Nope.”
“Divorced, then?”
“Never married. I guess I just didn’t meet the right person.” She sighed. “I’ve never really minded before, but the holidays can be tough on anyone, and it’s worse when you’re nearly forty and still alone. My mother is now on a matchmaker tangent. She’s determined to marry me off or die trying.”
Her voice contained such disgust, he had to laugh.
Watching him, her lovely blue eyes widened. “You should do that more often,” she said softly. “It suits you.”
“Makes me look less frightening,” he replied, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “Isn’t that what you mean?”
Now she was the one who laughed and when she did, her face went from pretty to drop-dead stunningly beautiful. He watched as the flickering light danced over her creamy skin, the hollows of her cheeks, the slender line of her throat, and ached. Damn, he’d been too long without a woman.
Talking to her had been a mistake.
Yet he couldn’t make himself leave this train wreck.
“You aren’t frightening. Not to me,” she said softly. “I forgot how funny you are. At least you kept your sense of humor.”
“Maybe,” he allowed, studying her. Time had been kind to her. He remembered her as a tall, elegant athletic girl, one of the popular ones that every guy lusted after. She’d been a few years out of school, but that hadn’t stopped them for getting together one hot August night at a party in someone’s newly harvested field. Maybe because his life had all but stopped when he’d been sent to prison, but he remembered that like it was yesterday.
Hell, for him it was yesterday. Sometimes he felt like a twenty-year-old kid walking around in the body of a thirty-five-year-old man. Other times he felt like he was a hundred.
Tonight, it was refreshing to be with someone who didn’t act as though he were fragile or dangerous, or both.
He lifted his glass, inviting her to make an impromptu toast. “To old friends.”
With a smile, she touched her glass to his. “To old friends.”
“You look good, Eve.”
To his disbelief, she blushed again. “Thanks. So do you. It’s surprising, but you’re easy to talk to.”
He laughed. “Do you always say exactly what you think?”
“No. Not always. I run a beauty shop here in town—Salon Allegra, have you seen it?”
“I don’t get to town much.”
“I see.” She nodded. “After high school, I was going to go to college, but ended up attending beauty school instead. I worked at The Cut ‘N’ Curl for a long time. When Irene died, she left me the place. I fixed it up and renamed it.”
“You never left Honey Creek?” he asked, letting his gaze sweep her face. “Didn’t you ever want to live somewhere else, to get away?”
“Not really. I’ve traveled a bit, but it’s so beautiful here. Where else can you have all this?” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Mountains and valley and endless prairie. Big Sky Country.”
Despite the contentment ringing in her voice, something seemed off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, not exactly, but he’d bet dissatisfaction lurked underneath her complacent exterior. The Eve Kelley he’d known had been a bit of a wild child, not this staid, watered-down version sitting in front of him.
“But didn’t you ever feel like you were missing out?”
She regarded him curiously. “On what? I don’t like cities and crowds and pollution. I love the big open spaces. Honey Creek has all I need.”
“Really?”
She thought for a moment. “Okay, sometimes I have to head into Bozeman or Billings to shop, but most everything I could want I can get here in town.”
He dipped his chin, acknowledging her words but still watching her closely. “You don’t get bored?”
“How could I? I have my family and friends, my business and my family’s business. No other place could give me that. And the people are friendly.”
“Ah, friendly. Maybe to you. Not to me.”
“That both surprises me and doesn’t. Even though everyone in town knows you didn’t kill Mark Walsh, they’re