No Place Like Home. Debbie Macomber

marched out of the barn. Sam sighed, leaned against the center post and rubbed one hand over his face, still wondering why he’d kissed her.

      Then again, maybe he knew. He didn’t like the idea of her dating Letson. His dislike of lawyers was instinctive, following the less than fair treatment he’d received from his own defense attorney. Which, to be honest, wasn’t Letson’s fault. In any case, it was more than that.

      Sam had seen the way Letson looked at Molly—like a little boy in a candy store, his mouth watering for lemon drops. Letson would take Molly to dinner and afterward he’d kiss her. And when he did, Sam wanted Molly’s thoughts to be clouded with the memory of his kiss. The memory of his touch.

      Why, though? He reminded himself that he didn’t even like Molly all that much. So why was he competing with Letson?

      Damned if he knew.

      And which kiss would Molly prefer—his or Letson’s? Sam groaned at the thought.

      If he were a betting man, he’d wager it wouldn’t be his.

Five

      Russell Letson was by far the most attractive man Molly had ever dated. When it came to looks, Sam Dakota took a distant second. Actually, she told herself, he wasn’t even in the running. Nowhere close.

      If she was interested in remarrying—which she wasn’t—Molly wanted a man like her grandfather. While Gramps was no Mr. Personality, he was solid and strong in all the ways that mattered. The world needed more men like him. His body had deteriorated with age, but in his prime he’d been a man who inspired others. He was honest and good and fair, and he’d loved her grandmother to distraction. Just as her grandmother had loved him.

      From her conversation with the bank manager and from the infrequent letters Gramps had sent her, Molly realized that over the past few years, he’d alienated a number of people. When her grandmother was alive, she’d smoothed over quarrels and difficulties, but with her gone, Gramps had turned cantankerous and unfriendly. Molly hoped all that would change now that she’d moved in with him. And while he had his faults, Gramps was her knight, her compass, her guiding light. Molly couldn’t imagine life without him.

      At least Gramps seemed to approve of Russell—and Russell had gone out of his way to make this a special evening.

      The restaurant was everything he’d claimed. The interior was elegant, the booths upholstered in a plush rust red velvet, and the lights low. There was a small dance floor and a live band every Friday and Saturday night, according to the sign outside. Molly was surprised a town the size of Sweetgrass could support an upscale restaurant like The Cattle Baron.