A Creed in Stone Creek - Linda Lael Miller [128]
Melissa smiled, though her stomach was tight with sudden tension. What, she wondered, was “really good”?
“Thanks,” Tom said, ending the exchange by shutting the phone and dropping it back into his shirt pocket.
Everyone was watching him, and nobody was even pretending to eat.
“That was a doctor at the hospital in Flagstaff,” the sheriff explained, taking up his fork again. “Martine will be fine. They’re releasing her today.”
Melissa choked up again. Now that she didn’t have to hold thoughts of what had happened to the other woman at bay to keep from panicking, relief rushed in, bringing tears to her eyes.
“Thank God,” she said.
“It’s not that you’re not welcome, Sheriff,” Steven said, when some of the emotional energy zipping around the table had subsided, “but you must have had a reason for driving clear out here on a Saturday morning.”
Tom glanced at Matt, who was busy trying to sneak a piece of bacon to Zeke, and therefore distracted from the conversation between the grown-ups. “I’ll need the clothes you were wearing,” he said, looking directly at Steven now. “As well as Melissa’s. The—er—interviews can wait until Monday, when the rodeo is over and the dust has settled a little.”
The hard line of Steven’s shoulders seemed to soften slightly. “Okay,” he said. And he glanced toward the window again.
Who was he looking for?
Melissa didn’t get the opportunity to ask until the meal was over and the dishes had been put away and everybody was ready to head into town, including Tom.
And by then, she’d forgotten she’d had a question in the first place.
STEVEN WAITED in Melissa’s living room while she disappeared to exchange Kim’s clothes for an outfit of her own. She returned looking five kinds of wonderful in black jeans that fit her only slightly more loosely than a second skin, and a blouse just like the peach one she’d had on the day before, except that it was turquoise. And not soaked in blood.
To complete the look, she’d pulled on a pair of superfancy boots, also turquoise, and decorated with shining silver conchos and a few rhinestones for good measure.
“Wow,” Steven said. She wouldn’t be mucking out any stalls in those boots, that was for sure.
“The last time I wore these,” Melissa replied, “I was Queen of Stone Creek Rodeo Days.”
Steven cleared his throat. “They’ve held up well,” he said, sliding his gaze upward from the boots, past all the hidden places where he’d touched and kissed her in bed that morning, until he reached her face. “And so have you.”
She laughed. “Nice save,” she said.
Steven shifted. “We can do this, can’t we?” he asked.
Melissa crossed to him, slipped her arms around his waist, stood on tiptoe to kiss the cleft in his chin. “Do what?” she countered softly, her eyes twinkly and warm.
For a moment, he felt as though he might tumble right into those eyes, and fall end over end, forever.
“Make it work,” Steven said. “You. Me. Us.”
“We can make it work,” Melissa confirmed gently, splaying her hands over his shoulder blades now. “All we have to do is keep trying, Steven. If we give things time, and we don’t give up, we’ll be fine.”
He smiled, bent his head to nibble at her lips. “Spoken like someone who comes from sturdy pioneer stock,” he teased.
“Just like you do,” she breathed, against his mouth.
“We could be a little late for the rodeo,” he suggested.
“What rodeo?” Melissa asked.
At that, Steven scooped her up in his arms and carried her to bed.
MELISSA COULDN’T STOP SMILING, which was crazy, since she’d nearly been killed the night before, in the Stop & Shop. Steven’s lovemaking, in his bed and later in hers, had left her feeling as though every step she took was part of a dance.
Was it a risk, letting herself love a man so completely?
Of course it was. But, just as Steven said, she was descended from pioneers, people like Sam and Maddie O’Ballivan, and generations