The Lawman's Noelle

“Ten is fine.” She awkwardly eased her hand from his. “I’ll see you then.”

He lifted a hand in farewell, and Noelle left the café.

On the drive home, she tried to think of anything and everything besides Evan Calhoun. She had a whole list of chores to be finished before nightfall. She didn’t have time to daydream about a man. Any man, she told herself.

But a half hour later, she was home and changing out of her sweater and boots when it dawned on her that she’d been so shaken by Evan’s invitation, she’d forgotten to pay the ticket for the coffee and cinnamon roll.

Feeling worse than sappy, she picked up the phone and punched in the number for the café. Thankfully, Jessi answered.

“It’s Noelle,” she told the waitress. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but I forgot and left the café without paying my bill. Can you take care of it for me until I come back in?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already taken care of it,” Jessi assured her. “But I would like to know what’s going on with you. Evan Calhoun was holding your hand! What was that all about?”

Noelle drew in a shaky breath, then blew it out. “I’m not sure, Jessi. I think I might’ve just made the biggest mistake in my life.”

Either that or she was finally waking up from a long, cold sleep.

Chapter Four

The next morning, when Evan arrived at Noelle’s lonely little ranch a few minutes before ten, he realized just how loopy he’d been the day he’d hit his head in the gulch. Everything he’d remembered about the place was like a foggy dream. Now, as he parked the truck a few yards away from the house, everything was crystal clear. Almost brutally so.

Even in his dazed state that day, he’d noticed the small size of the house. But he didn’t recall it being this little, or the chipping stucco and weather-bleached trim so worn and in need of repair. Except for two small windows, the front of the dwelling was bare, with no sort of porch to shield the entrance. A stone positioned below the simple door acted as a step. Beyond the house, he could see a partial view of the old board barn. The whole structure was listing slightly to the east, as though it had grown tired of battling the years of westerly winds. But since the barn was in no danger of collapsing, Evan supposed it was serving its purpose.

As he walked to the door of the house, Evan couldn’t help but think back to when he’d asked Tessa about living on an isolated ranch and she’d humorously asked if the family was going to send her to take care of a line shack. Evan had laughed at her question. But now, as he took a good look at Noelle’s home, he realized that some of the line shacks on the Silver Horn were far sturdier and more comfortable. And though it shouldn’t have, the fact made him feel a bit guilty about the wealth he’d been born into.

Noelle answered his knock fairly quickly. As soon as Evan took one look at her, he realized why he’d taken the trouble to ask her out. A pair of cream-colored jeans clung to her shapely hips and long legs, then finally disappeared into a pair of brown suede dress boots. A pumpkin-colored blouse caressed the fullness of her breasts and brought out the rich, russet highlights in her long, brown hair. Yet it was the strength of her features and the candor in her dark brown eyes that struck him the most.

“Good morning,” she said. “Please come in while I finish gathering my things.”

He stepped past her and directly into the cozy living room. Along the way, he caught the same flowery scent she’d been wearing the day he’d fallen off Lonesome. Damn. There were bits and pieces of that day he couldn’t recall at all. Yet he could remember very distinctly how this woman had looked and smelled. He supposed with only a part of his brain working, the male instinct had taken over.

“It looks like we’re going to have a beautiful day today,” he told her. “I hope the weather holds. I’d like to show you around my grandparents’ place without freezing you.”

“I’m outdoors every day, Evan. Rain or shine. Heat or cold. I’m used to it.” Smiling faintly, she gestured toward the couch. “Have a seat if you like. I’ll be only a minute.”

She disappeared into another part of the house. Rather than taking a seat, Evan stood where he was and took a visual survey of the small room. The walls were painted a pale beige and covered with an assortment of prints, mostly outdoor scenes full of horses and Western landscapes. Linoleum covered the floor, and in places the brown-and-gold pattern was worn through to the black backing, but she’d hidden most of it with a braided rug in the center.

Along with the red couch he’d rested on the other day, there was a stuffed red armchair, both of which had faded to the color of a half-ripened watermelon. A wooden rocker with a thin pad tied to the seat was jammed in one corner, while directly across from it was a small television set equipped with a pair of rabbit ears. Without a proper antenna, he doubted she received enough signal to get the public-access channel out of Carson City, much less a regular station with nation­wide programming.

Did she live in this manner because she was frugal, he wondered, or simply because she lacked the funds to do better? Either way, he was more than intrigued by the woman. Yet the lifestyle she’d chosen was her business, and she’d already made it fairly clear that she didn’t want him poking his nose in it.

The sound of her footsteps had him turning to see her stepping through the open doorway. A gray woolen coat was thrown over her arm, while a brown leather purse swung from her shoulder.

“Will I need anything other than my coat and purse?”

“Not a thing,” he said with a smile. “Do you have the barn situated like you need it? The horses—”

“Yes. Everything will be fine until this evening.”

“Good. Then let’s get going. If we’re lucky, Grandmother will have something cooking on the stove.”

He followed her out of the house, then stepped to one side while he waited for her to lock the door. But she didn’t. When she started toward his truck, Evan stared after her in dismay.

“Noelle? You forgot to lock the house.”

Glancing over her shoulder at him, she shook her head. “I didn’t forget. I never lock it.”

Stunned, Evan quickly caught up to her. “Never lock it? But someone could walk in and steal anything they wanted!”

She shot him a bored look. “And just what would they be getting, Mr. Detective? A few pieces of clothing? Some mismatched dishes? A little trinket box full of costume jewelry? A TV set that you’d do well to sell at a pawnshop for twenty-five dollars? No. If someone wants to get in the house that badly, I’d rather them walk through the door instead of breaking out the windows.”

Her logic set him back on his heels. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to reply. Her reasoning made sense, and it pointed out just how few material things she owned.

“What about Christmas gifts?” he asked. “At this time of year, if you have any of those hidden away—”

“No,” she interrupted him. “I don’t really do much in the way of Christmas buying.”

He wondered whether her finances didn’t allow for shopping or she simply didn’t enjoy the holiday. Either way, now wasn’t the time to ask.

Taking her by the arm, he urged her on to the truck. Along the way, he said, “As an officer of the law, I tell folks all the time not to make it easy for thieves to steal or commit a crime. But—and don’t ever repeat this to Sheriff Wainwright—in your case, I can see your point.”

As he opened the truck door to help her into the cab, she actually gave him a broad smile. “You can? That’s surprising.”

He chuckled. “I can have an open mind. When I really work at it.”

* * *

Minutes later, after they’d driven away from her place, Noelle glanced around the plush interior of the truck, then allowed her gaze to settle on Evan. Although he was dressed casually in faded jeans and a denim jacket over a green paisley shirt, he wore the clothes with an easy air that could only come from a wealth of self-confidence. And though she hated to admit it, the attitude added volumes to his sexy appearance.

They’d traveled a few miles in companionable silence when she asked, “What made you want to become a lawman?”

With his brows pulled together, he darted her a glance. “You make it sound like I’ve chosen to have an incurable disease.”

She could’ve told him that for the past five years, she’d considered lawmen as loathsome as an incurable disease, but this man was going out of his way to repay her for a kind deed. For today she would try to forget that he wore a pistol on his hip and a badge on his chest.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s hard for me to figure you out. I mean, your family owns and runs a huge ranch. You had other options and directions you could’ve taken in your life. Instead, you chose to be an officer of the law.”

He stared thoughtfully ahead at the lonesome two-lane highway. “You’re right. I grew up learning all about raising cattle and horses and the round-the-clock work it takes to run a place the size of the Horn. My dad even says I’m good at ranching, and maybe I am. But I had other interests, too.” Glancing at her again, he said, “To answer your question better, it was my granddad Tuck, the one you’ll meet today, who directed me toward being a law officer.”

“Oh. So I take it he’s not a rancher.”

“No. Not like the Calhoun family. Granddad runs a few head of cows and has a couple of horses, but he doesn’t do it for a living. Having livestock around is just something to give him a reason to get outdoors and stay busy. And keep out of Grandmother’s hair. You see, he’s a retired sheriff.”

Dear Lord, somehow she’d managed to land herself smack in the middle of a family of lawmen! What had she done to deserve a bunch of sad reminders shoved at her? Why couldn’t she have found an old, wrinkled rancher in the gulch that day? A bent, bowlegged cowboy who had simply ridden off his range and gotten lost? Instead, she’d found a hunky deputy who happened to be a member of one of the richest families in the state.

“Oh,” she said. “Did he work for the same office you do now?”

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