Seducing the Sheriff Page 5

  She let out a sigh of relief, inhaled the unmistakable smell of new fabrics and linens.

  Nash turned to leave then stopped and grinned. “I’ll tell my brother you came by.”

  “Thank you, Deputy,” she said, keeping her tone formal since Miss Selma Nelson, the proprietor, rushed into the store proper from a back room, brushing lint and short remnants of thread from her gray shirtwaist.

  “My goodness, Miss Tyler. It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen you in town. ”

  “Yes, I’ve been away, but now I’m in need of a dress, something simple yet special. And I’m afraid I’ll need it by Sunday.”

  “Yes, of course. I heard the wonderful news. I’m so happy for you and Sheriff Tate. But surely you brought many fine things from your stay back East?”

  “No. I traveled very lightly.” Very lightly indeed.

  The seamstress walked over a counter and pulled out a bolt of pale green fabric sprigged with tiny yellow flowers. “This would be perfect with your hair and eyes. What do you think? Maybe some nice lace trim, too?”

  “It’s lovely. What about a dress pattern?”

  “Here, let’s have a look in the style book and you can tell me which one you favor. Taking into consideration the ceremony is Sunday, we’ll need to keep it simple. I don’t suppose you have a dress form?”

  Star shook her head. “No, but I can help with the sewing if you can do the sleeves—I’m no good at setting in sleeves. In fact, why don’t you ride back to the ranch with me and we can start work on it together? I have the buckboard here. We could load your dress form in the back of the wagon with my provisions and…” She paused. “Wait. How will I get you back? I have to cook supper tonight for company.” Now that sounded like she was trying to give the seamstress the bum’s rush. “You must stay for dinner.”

  “Oh, no, dear. I couldn’t intrude. I have my own conveyance—a smart little buggy all the way from St. Louis. I inherited it from my uncle—he was a doctor—when he passed away last summer.”

  “You’re still welcome to stay for dinner. It’ll just be my intended and me.”

  Miss Nelson laughed. “Now I absolutely know I won’t intrude on your privacy. Tell me, has your father been apprised of your plans to marry?”

  Star’s cheeks started heating. “He’s away on a trail drive, but I expect him home any day now. I suppose you think me brazen to be all alone with my fiancé.”

  The seamstress shook her head. “In my position I learned a long time ago not to judge people. I’ve kept a lot of secrets in my time and hidden a lot of bulging waistlines with my clever sewing.” She stopped and chuckled. “If you only knew—but that’s not important. A woman has hard enough time in this man’s world without other women giving her a hard time.”

  “I wish more folks felt that way.” She glanced around the small store. “Won’t I be taking you away from your business?”

  “So what? It’s my shop, and if I want to close it long enough to visit a friend and help her get her wedding dress ready, I will. I answer to no one but myself and my customers. And right now you’re my customer.”

  “I sort of like the sound of that—answering to no one.”

  “Not having second thoughts about marrying our fine sheriff, are you?”

  “No,” Star giggled, “but I still like the sound of it just the same.” No way would she ever regret being in Cord’s arms every night for the rest of her life.

  “All right then.” The seamstress rubbed her hands together. “I’ll this fabric cut off the bolt, and while I’m doing that, you pick out the thread and lace and anything else that suits your fancy.”

  She nodded and wandered over to the lace counter. “White or ecru? Which do you think best?”

  “Keep looking. There’s some pale green French lace I’ve been wanting to use for such a long time and just never had the right dress or person for it.”

  “This one?” Star held up a card of pale green.

  The seamstress nodded. “Yes, that one.”

  Holding back a smile, Star shivered. Was she really going to marry Cord in only four more days? She’d be safe forever. Sunday couldn’t come fast enough.

  After they stowed the dress form in the back of the wagon with the rest of the provisions, Star waited until Miss Nelson brought her buggy around. A smart, black buggy it was, too. “Ready?”

  “Sure enough.” The seamstress flicked the reins and took off in the direction of the ranch.

  Star wheeled her mare and buckboard around, and headed after the black buggy. At least there was one person of the female persuasion who didn’t judge her. Of course, Cord’s brother had proven himself a perfect gentleman, too. What would it be like to be surrounded by caring and loving men like Cord and his two brothers? As far as she could tell, all three of the Tate boys were fine men, good and true.

  Not a bank robber or a drunkard in the entire lot.

  Chapter Five

  Star wiped her hands on her apron and experienced a great feeling of satisfaction. The chicken was cut up, dredged in flour and already sizzling in the iron skillet. Thank God, Miss Selma Nelson had come and helped her with the wedding dress. Poor woman had no inkling she’d have to wring a chicken’s neck because Star was too squeamish to do it. Plucking and cutting it up were bad enough. Honestly, there were a couple things about Boston she missed: a cook, for one.

  Snapped green beans, cooked with bacon, had simmered all afternoon. There were biscuits browning in the oven, having taken the place of a homemade apple pie, and for the moment, potatoes boiled briskly on the cook stove. Miss Nelson had left not ten minutes earlier after declining Star’s second invitation to stay for supper. “No fifth wheel on the wagon for me,” the good woman said and took off in her smart, little buggy.

  Bless her heart.

  Considering none of her fine supper, not counting the chicken, was produced by the ranch, she’d done the best she could. No one had taken care of the vegetable garden or done a lick of canning while she was back East. Everything on the table came from the general store. Next year she’d get an early start and clear the garden for planting and see the ranch hands had something to eat besides beans. Honestly, men were useless without a woman around to make a home.

  No, wait. She’d be living with Cord next year. Or would she?

  She wiped her floury hands on her apron then checked her timepiece. Getting close to five. Just enough time to make the milk gravy before Cord arrived, ready for his supper.

  What would it be like, cooking dinner for Cord every night and making slow, sweet love afterwards? She shut her eyes for a second, remembering his caresses and her responses. The man could certainly make a woman feel like she was drowning and desperate need of coming up for air whenever just merely looked at her. But his touch… “Ah…”

  “What’s wrong, darlin’? You remembering how it was with us?”

  Her lids popped open. Cord, in all his male glory, was standing in the doorway. His hair was slicked back, and he was wearing what had to be his Sunday-go-to-meeting suit. One of his hands was suspiciously held behind his back.

  “I wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me all the time. It’s very unnerving.”

  “I brought you something.” From behind his back, he produced a small bouquet of wildflowers and purple sage. “A small gift for my hostess. Isn’t that how they do it in Boston?”

  “Yes. Yes, it is.” Good Lord, was there anything resembling a vase on the entire ranch? She reached for the flowers, still not sure what she’d do with them.

  “No, you don’t.” He snatched them back and with his free hand pulled her close.

  Her heart pounded, sending the warmth of a flush up her neck and to her cheeks. A very different kind of heat curled its way to her lower belly. “Better watch those hands of yours. I’ll have you know this is my first real home-cooked meal since coming home. That’s not including the pot of beans and stew I’ve managed to burn the other night.” She wrung her hands and rea
ched again for the flowers. Damn the man. He had her insides quivering and her knees knocking.

  She glanced down at her blue-bell flowered cotton shirtwaist. Good thing she’d worn a dress instead of the usual denim trousers. At least her knocking knees were hidden from his too observant gaze.

  He pulled back and gazed at her quizzically. “Nervous? Cause you’re talking faster than I can take it all in.”

  “Nervous? Not at all. But you should know my cooking’s on this side of rusty.”

  “Smells mighty good to me.” He craned his neck to see what was on the stove. “O’course appearances could be deceiving. You’re not going to poison me, are you?”

  “Lord, I hope not.” Again she reached for the bouquet.

  “Nope.” He held the wildflowers high over her head and waggled them back and forth.

  “Blast you, Cordero Tate. Give me the damn flowers so I can put ’em in water before they wilt.”

  “Maybe they’re for your father.” He leaned against the door jamb, a lazy grin spreading across his rugged face.

  She set her hands on her hips and reined in the very strong urge to smack him. “You said they were a hostess gift and besides, he’s not here.”

  He squinted and shrugged his broad shoulders. “I did say that. Didn’t I?”

  “You’re worse than a child playing games.”

  “This game’s a lot safer. If you pa was to come home and catch us playing any other kind of games, you might end up a widow woman before you’re a bride.” His tone was hushed but left Star with no doubts about what kind of “other games” he had in mind, especially since they were the same ones she had.

  “He’s still not back from the cattle drive, and I didn’t make enough for him anyway.” She shrugged then gave a hop, snatched the bouquet and ran to the sink with it. “I have to put these in something. It’s not like pa bothered to keep house while I was gone.”

  “Maybe his heart was broke, like mine.”

  He’d come up behind her. Her hands started trembling, but she turned to face him. “Like yours?”

  “Yes, when you ran away. Now I know you didn’t have a choice.”

  “I’m back now.” Not wanting him to read her thoughts—something he seemed to do at will—she, averted her gaze, hunkered down and searched under the counter for a vase or pitcher.

  “Yes, you are. And I surely am glad. I missed you. Why do you think I—?” He broke off, shaking his head.

  “What?”

  “Never mind. What time’s supper going to be ready, woman? Don’t you know a hungry man when you see one?”

  There it was. She pulled a pitcher from the lower shelf. “This’ll do for the flowers.” She straightened to find him almost on her heels. Elbowing him out of the way, she said, “A little crowded in here, don’t you think?”

  “I can take a hint. Now that you have my flowers, you think you can just shove me out of your way.” He took the pitcher from her. “How about I draw some water?”

  Speechless, she nodded. Damnation. Never in her life had she ever wanted a man like she wanted this particular aggravating one. Wanted him in every way a woman could want and need a man.

  He set the pitcher aside on pine counter. “Maybe those flowers will last a few more minutes.” He slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her hard. His tongue swept inside and plundered. All her bones turned to overcooked mush. Her arms went around his neck and he caught her as she sagged into his arms.

  “I’ve missed your arms and your mouth and—”

  “—and? What else have you missed, darlin’?”

  “All the wonderful things you do to me, and I just wonder when you’re going to teach me some way to pleasure you?”

  “Plenty of time for that, gal.” His stomach growled and she was close enough to feel it.

  “You are hungry, aren’t you?”

  “Afraid I am. And one thing my mama taught me was to eat food when it was hot and to clean my plate.”

  “Then I best hurry and fill your plate because there’s more to tonight than eating supper.”

  He chuckled and pulled her to him for a quick kiss then swatted her behind. “Get busy, woman.”

  Smiling, she quickly filled two tin plates with helpings of food. No fine china or serving pieces, but more than likely her guest didn’t care. Surveying her handiwork, she gave a sigh of relief. At least the food looked and smelled delicious.

  And she hadn’t burned a single thing.

  “Supper’s on the table. Tuck in.” Her mother would be horrified at her manners. Yes, she could sell her daughter to the highest bidder, but then her mama’s manners were always above reproach. Of course when it came to literally selling her daughter to an old creep like Teddy Darwin, that was another matter entirely.

  Cord pushed back from the table. “Mighty fine supper, ma’am. Can’t say I’ve had better in quite a while. He rose and scooted his chair under the table then grinned at Star. “Want some help with those dishes?”

  Her eyes widened as if his suggestion surprised her. “Sure you don’t mind a little woman’s work?”

  “Sooner you get done, the sooner we can talk and the sooner we can…”

  “You’re so right, Sheriff. I cannot help but agree.”

  “’Bout damn time you agreed with something I said.”

  Together they made quick work of the cleanup. She washed. He dried then folded the dishtowel and laid it on the counter. “Come on. You’ve put me off long enough.” He took her by the hand and led her into the sitting room, his heart pounding loud enough to be heard in the next county. Was he really about to do the one thing he swore he’d never do again: get hitched? But he had to and not just because of what folks would think. His brother had told him about having to escort Star along the street to protect her from the old drunks who congregated along the street.

  Dammit. He loved the woman. She’d bewitched him when he was a seventeen-year-old kid. And now, all these years later he was under her spell more than ever. Living without her wasn’t an option.

  She walked over to a kerosene lamp and lit the wick then adjusted the flame. While he watched, she sashayed to the settee and sat then proceeded to arrange her skirt carefully over her knees. Looking up at him expectantly, she smiled, somewhat ironically, one eyebrow arched.

  He sat beside her—more like he perched. Should he kneel first? Aw, hell. Proposing never got any easier, no matter how many times a man did it. He swallowed the big old lump trying to form in his throat.

  “Now what on earth do we have to talk about? I’d much rather just go upstairs.” She fluttered her lashes, thick, dark copper-colored fans.

  “Will you just shut the fuck up!” He scraped his hand back through his hair.

  Star’s lashes stopped their incessant fluttering and widened, revealing her green gaze was filled with confusion and more than a little anger. “You will not ever speak to me like that again or I’ll shoot you myself.”

  She popped off the settee, ready to run, but he grabbed her wrist. “Please don’t go. I’m sorry. You’ve got me in such a state I don’t know what I’m saying half the time.”

  She paused. “Is that so?”

  Damn, the woman’s tone was cool enough to freeze a man’s cojones. “Sit down and just listen to me.”

  “Then stop ordering me around like I’m one of your prisoners.”

  “If only…” he muttered quietly then added quickly, “…I didn’t mean that. Please, will you just sit down and let me say my piece?”

  She looked down her perfect freckled nose and let out a sigh. “I suppose, since you rephrased that arrogant demand to a polite request.” She sat and folded her hands in her lap.

  He stood then went down on one knee, something he didn’t even do for his first proposal. “Starlight Tyler, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  She turned her gaze toward the beamed ceiling, first in one direction and then another then finally back to him. “Is that it?”

&nb
sp; “Is what it?”

  “That’s all you have to say, just a bald proposal? No ‘I love you more than life itself’ or whatever it is that a man should say to the woman he expects to spend the rest of her life tied to his side?”

  “‘Tied to my side’? Is that how you see being married to me?”

  “Maybe I’m too romantic, but I don’t want you to ask me out of fear of my pa or because you think it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Dammit, woman. I love you like I’ve never loved any woman in my whole life.”

  Chapter Six

  “That’s better. Go on.” Rather than gaze into his eyes, Star perused her folded hands. At least they weren’t visibly trembling, even if on the inside she was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm. She had no intention of refusing his proposal, especially not after the way she’d been treated in town that morning. Still she needed to hear him say the words. Likely it would be the last time Cord ever called his romantic side to the fore.

  “But you’re the most aggravating female I’ve ever come across.”

  Aggravating? Well, so was he. “Fond of taking one step forward and two back are you, Sheriff?”

  “I’ve kissed your sweet lips. I’ve seen every inch of your body and licked the juices from your sweet pussy. You’re a hell of a woman, and I don’t know if I can handle you, but I’m willing to give it a hell of a try, ’cause I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without you at my side. Not tied, but there with me because we belong together. Dammit, woman, I stood up and saved your reputation when the reverend caught us. I love you. What more do you want? My blood?”

  Star slipped from the settee to her knees. Face-to-face, she gazed into his warm brown eyes. In the dimly lit room his love shone in his dark gaze. She licked her lips before she spoke. “Normally your heart would be sufficient, not that your blood would hurt this tattered old rug.” She glanced down at the rag rug pieced over a generation ago. “But I must have your promise that you’ll be a true husband to me in every way.”