Since Broadhower stood up, he was it.
Colt watched the man’s boot twitch. If he didn’t get out of the way, Folsom would be caught between the boot and the back of a bench. It looked like Broadhower meant to crush a rib or two.
Colt threw the knife. The hiss of cold, sharp steel cut the air, barely disturbing the fair afternoon.
Broadhower gasped when he found his pant leg suddenly pinned to the bench.
Colt jumped from the buggy and strode slowly toward Broadhower, who glanced ogle-eyed at him, then the knife.
Colt plucked the blade from the bench, yanking it from his pant leg.
He glared at Broadhower, then at Folsom. “From now on, Saphead...and you, Featherbrain, Miss Munroe is off-limits.”
“Says who?” Folsom and Broadhower spoke together.
“Says the new owner of the Munroe place.”
In the face of a shocked expression and a furious one, Colt climbed back into the buggy and settled between the ladies.
“You boys have a nice day.” He flashed them a smug grin that was sure to make them steam.
“Why, will you look at that?” Grannie craned her neck to look behind as he led the team toward the bakery. “There’s mashed cake spread all over town square.”
* * *
Colt watched Grannie Rose’s grin crinkle while she sighed over each and every sweet treat in the display case. The three-week trip from the Broken Brand to Friendship Springs had been worth it for this moment alone.
Grannie’s mind wasn’t as clear as it had once been. Now and then she saw things that weren’t there. Still and all, she was his grandmother, and he meant to see that she enjoyed every year that she had left.
“I’ll take one of everything, except those chocolate hearts,” Grannie announced, and clapped her hands. “I’ll take two of those.”
“You’ll take two sweets and one chocolate heart,” Aunt Tillie said in the tone that she used on contrary toddlers.
Looked like his spoiling of Grannie might have to be done on the sly.
“Oh, Tillie, you need to loosen your corset strings on occasion.” Grannie nudged her sister in the ribs.
At that moment the curtain to the back room rustled and a young woman stepped through. For half a second he was stunned by her resemblance to a heavenly angel.
“Good afternoon,” she said, gazing at him with eyes as rich a brown as the fancy chocolates piled on the plate between them. “How can I help you?”
With a sugar sweet kiss was the first thought to pop into his mind, but clearly, this was not the kind of woman that a man casually canoodled.
“I’ll have one of everything,” Grannie Rose declared. “Except for the hearts, I’ll have three of those...and so will my sister.”
“Make yourself sick then, but don’t think I’ll be up all night caring for you,” Aunt Tillie huffed.
The woman smiled at Grannie, then Aunt Tillie. Hell if she didn’t look as sweet as the pastries covering the counter.
“May I make a suggestion?” she asked.
“Anything that will keep my sister from the sin of gluttony.”
“I’ll take your suggestion, dearie,” Grannie said. “As long as it comes with four hearts of chocolate.”
“As a matter of fact, it comes with a plateful of them to share among you. I guarantee no one will become sick from it.”
Colt tried not to stare at her, but the woman was damned pretty. He’d seen a pink rose once that was a match to the blush in her cheeks.
“As long as it’s not the whole contents of the display case, we’ll take it,” Aunt Tillie said.
“Just have a seat at the table over there by the window. Won’t take but a minute to prepare.”
Fresh is what best described her...fresh and luminous. He’d never seen a luminous woman before, but just to prove his thought, when she walked through a beam of afternoon sunshine streaking through a window on her way to the back room, her blond hair turned gold, like the light was inside it.
He didn’t realize that he had been staring calf-eyed at the curtain until Aunt Tillie asked if he was ailing.
He shook his head. “Just a mite wearied from the trip.”
“She’s a very pretty young lady.” Grannie studied him with a look. She arched a fine gray brow. “In fact, Colt Wesson, I believe she is the one for you.”
Aunt Tillie rolled her eyes and shrugged.
“Grannie, she’s not my kind of woman at all. I’m partial to the earthy kind.”
Once again Aunt Tillie rolled her eyes. This time she sighed out loud.
That’s right, earthy with a whiff of sin about them.
Hell, he wasn’t her kind of man. She would require a gentleman.
It threw him off a bit when, a few moments later, the angel emerged from the back room and a surge of desire rocked him to his dusty boots.
She glided toward them with a tray balanced on her palm set with daintily painted teacups and a plate of chocolates. The scent of cinnamon, mint and cloves rose from the delicate china.
“There’s a dash of everything in the tea, and it won’t do a bit of harm to ladylike figures,” she said, placing the teacups on the lace tablecloth then setting the plate of chocolates in the middle.
Grannie Rose caught her hand before she walked away. “You are a lovely girl. Not married, I hope.”
“No, ma’am.” Colt didn’t miss the shadow that passed over her soft brown eyes.
Grannie winked at him.
He was in for it now. Once Grannie Rose had a notion about something it was difficult to dissuade her from it.
Next trip to The Sweet Treat, he’d wait outside. He’d take a peek or two through the window, but what man wouldn’t?
“There’s a pig nibbling on my boot toe,” Grannie Rose announced.
“Really, Rose,” Aunt Tillie whispered. “Don’t insult the proprietor by saying such a ridiculous thing.”
“But there is a pig, a small one, but a pig, nonetheless, and it’s nipping my footwear.”
Colt glanced at the lovely shop owner to see if the lady meant to kick them out over Grannie’s words. Her cheeks were flushed...turning redder by the second.
“Apologize, Rose!” Aunt Tillie had turned nearly as red as the angel, who swished her yellow skirt rounding the pastry counter.
“Look for yourself, then.” Grannie lifted the table lace.
“Lulu!” The angel dashed forward.
By damn, it was a pig! A pig with a pink ribbon tied through a slot in its ear. It was hard to know what surprised him more, the presence of the pig or that he had failed to notice it under the table. But Grannie was right. It was a very little pig.
The angel rushed for the pig; the pig dashed from under the table snagging the lace tablecloth around its foot.
Tea and chocolate went sailing, while fragile cups hit the floor and shattered. He caught a blue one and saved it.
He and the old ladies jumped up and backed away from the table a heartbeat before the