“And begged me to watch over you.”
Abruptly, Libby looked as numb as she had at the funeral. “Had none of that happened, Percy would have lived.” She stood and gazed deep into Holden’s eyes. “But he didn’t.” Restlessly, she paced the length of the room. “And now you and I are here. Dealing with the aftermath of my late husband’s reckless nature, each and every day.”
Holden caught up with her. “You have to know,” he croaked, gripping her hands, “if I could take it all back …” Make your life better. Make you happy again …
“I know, Holden. You would.” Libby squeezed his palms, then let go. Sadness glimmered in her green eyes as she confessed, “And I would, too. But we can’t. Instead, we have to deal with the fact that around here, I will always be Percy’s ‘tragic’ widow. The keeper of the Lowell legacy, and the go-to person for all community problems needing solving. Around here, I’ll never be just me. The Libby who grew up in Austin, and who wants a different kind of life.
He sighed heavily, watching her pained expression as she continued speaking her mind.
“Just as you will always be remembered as the guy who got quickly and unceremoniously dumped after Heidi lost your baby. The difference is, you’ve always lived here. You have tons of family in the area. And a ranch that you’ve built that will be your legacy from here on out.” She met his eyes. “Divorced or no, this is the life you are supposed to be leading. Mine was here only as long as Percy was alive.”
She had thought this through, Holden realized in shock. “You’re serious about moving on, then.”
“After more than two years?” Libby put her glasses back on her nose. “Yes. Very.”
“So if this Jeff Johnston comes in with a good offer …”
“Or even a decent one,” she affirmed.
“You’ll take it.”
Libby nodded, keeping the wall around her heart intact. “And I’ll sell the house, move on … and never look back.”
Chapter Two
“You’re sure this is going to be okay?” Rosa asked Libby nervously on Friday morning.
Libby nodded and waved the library employee toward the dealership showroom. “You can set up a return desk over there in the corner. The books on hold—and the checkout and information counter—can go next to that.”
Miss Mim came to join them. She’d brought with her a small army of library volunteers carrying armloads of supplies, boxes of books, even a computer. “Hopefully, we won’t need to be here more than a couple of days.”
Libby smiled at both librarians. “I’m sure we’ll get this straightened out by then. In the meantime, library patrons will have a place to go for the essentials and information.”
The dealership business was carrying on as usual. Two ranchers were in the offices, signing papers on new tractors and equipment. Another three were lined up to arrange service on their machines. And Lucia Gordon, the receptionist, was headed straight for Libby, a handsome thirtysomething man in a tweed sport coat and jeans by her side.
The tall stranger smiled as he reached her and held out his hand. “Libby Lowell, I presume?”
She grinned back. “The one and only.”
He shook her hand. “Jeff Johnston.”
Libby’s jaw dropped in surprise. “I thought we weren’t meeting until this evening.”
“I wanted to let you know I had arrived and checked in at the Laramie Inn.” Jeff looked around. “Plus I thought it would be good to see the place through the eyes of a regular customer.” His brow furrowed as he noticed the temporary library being set up. “What’s going on over there?”
Libby noted he didn’t look pleased. Briefly, she explained the problem, as well as her solution, adding, “That’s the way things work in a small town. We all go the extra mile to help each other out.”
Jeff rubbed a hand across his jaw, considering that. “None of the customers seem to mind.”
But, Libby noted, the next man coming into the dealership seemed wary. Not of what was going on in the corner, but of the man she was standing with.
Holden reached her and nodded at Jeff. “Johnston.”
“McCabe.”
Libby fought off a second wave of surprise. She squared her slender shoulders. “You two know each other?”
An inscrutable glint appeared in Holden’s eyes as he informed her casually, “We met a little while ago at the Daybreak Café.”
Which wasn’t surprising, Libby guessed, since the restaurant owned by Holden’s sister, Emily, was the place in town to have breakfast.
“I was chatting up the locals, asking around, to see how people felt about the dealership,” Jeff explained.
Libby tensed, not sure how she felt about that. Shouldn’t any questions have been directed at her first?
“Anyway, we’re still on for dinner this evening, right?” Jeff asked.
She nodded.
“Great. I’ve got a lot of questions and things I’d like to discuss.” He inclined his head and strolled off.
Holden gave Libby a steady look that sent heat spiraling through her. “Tell me you’re taking someone with you. Like a lawyer.”
Clearly, Holden didn’t trust Jeff Johnston. For reasons that had more to do with his loyalty to her late husband—and to her—than to Johnston’s overarching ambition, she suspected.
Libby folded her arms and moved closer to him. “I’m not paying a lawyer to sit through polite get-to-know-each-other chitchat.”
Holden looked at her soberly. “Obviously, Johnston wants it to be more than that. He appears anxious to get you to sign on the dotted line, here and now.”
She stepped back. “Then Mr. Johnston will be disappointed,” she said firmly, uncomfortably aware that she’d had the same impression of the businessman. “But if it will make you feel better … you can tag along,” she offered reluctantly.
Holden grinned as happily as if she had invited him into her bedroom. “Seriously?”
Doing her best to quell her conflicting emotions, Libby nodded. She did not want to depend on Holden, emotionally or otherwise. She had allowed herself to do that once, right after her husband’s passing, and the result had been disastrous for both of them. To the point that guilt and discomfort from that time were still with both of them.
But she was smart enough to know that the easiest way to keep one man from becoming too aggressive with her was to put another equally driven and protective man into the mix. So for now, for tonight, she would allow her late husband’s best friend to appease his conscience by employing his innate gallantry on her behalf, once more.
Having decided that, she sighed.
Glancing up at Holden, she couldn’t help but note how good he looked in that green corduroy shirt and jeans. His short dark hair was thick and rumpled, and his face had the shadow of beard that came from going twenty-four hours without a razor. But it was the cobalt-blue of his eyes, the compassionate set of his sensual lips, that really drew her in.
“Thanks for inviting me,” he said.
Libby gave him a glance that warned him not to get too carried away. “It makes more sense to have you at the table with us than to have you hovering somewhere in the background, trying to watch over me from a distance.” Which, she knew, he was likely to do, given the depth of his concern