He’d heard everything, amazed that Valentine and Last spoke with each other so easily about such a difficult subject. And how dare Last ask her if she had a thing for him? Crockett was just honest enough to admit his ears had stretched out about a foot to hear her reply, his heart hoping for an affirmative answer of some sort.
Well, he hadn’t gotten an affirmative, but he hadn’t overheard a negative, either. Wasn’t that a good sign?
He untangled himself from the bushes and headed back toward the main house. Half of him wanted to go pound Last for muddying the waters; he’d have to keep an eye on that brother of his. But right now the other half of him wanted to express his joy.
She didn’t say that she didn’t have a thing for me, he repeated to himself happily.
IN MIMI’S TOWNHOUSE the next day Mimi and Mason were seated at the kitchen table drinking tea and glaring at each other. Mimi’s daughter, Nanette, sat in Mason’s lap, playing with a doll he’d given her, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.
“I don’t want to be your deputy,” Mason said. “It’s a harebrained idea, as usual.”
“Sometimes you like my ideas,” she reminded him.
Mason wondered if he’d truly liked her ideas, or if he’d simply been driven by the inner devil that sometimes took the wheel of the Jefferson boys. “I may have lost my sense of direction and allowed you to lead me astray a time or two.”
“So you don’t want to be my deputy because of the news about Maverick?” Mimi asked. “Are you leaving to look for him again?”
“No.” He kissed the top of Nanette’s head, drawing peace from her presence. “It wouldn’t do me any good. Hawk and Jellyfish can find whatever is out there. They’re the trackers. Me, I’m just a farm boy.”
She laughed. “Right.”
“So.”
Taking a sip of tea, he considered Mimi. She was just as pretty as she’d ever been. Maybe even prettier. He supposed that now that she was officially divorced from Brian, men would flock to her door. That thought rattled him quite a bit more than it should. So he thought about Nanette instead. She needed a stable male influence in her life. She had Mimi’s father, the sheriff, of course. And Barley, Calhoun’s father-in-law, who came around often to play checkers and carouse with the sheriff a bit. And all the Jefferson brothers did their part for their former neighbor, because they loved Mimi like a sister and adored Nanette like one of their own.
But was it enough? “I may take Nanette to the park today.”
Mimi’s brows raised. “She’d like that.”
“Yeah.” He’d like it, too. He liked spending time with this child. Maybe he felt sorry for her since her father was never around. One thing Mimi’d had while growing up—wild March hare that she was—was the stable influence of the sheriff.
Nanette was a baby, really, but she still needed at least one man who cared about her in a…fatherly way.
He decided it was up to him. “Yeah, the deputy thing isn’t for me. And now that the sheriff has nearly gotten over the liver infection, can he keep his post?”
Mimi shook her head. “He can’t run for sheriff again. Dad really needs to take it easy. He’s happy here in town, too, more than I thought he’d be.” She sighed. “Although I will admit I never thought we’d leave our little farm.”
Mason was just glad they hadn’t moved farther away. With Mimi, you could never tell what might happen. “Ever hear from Brian?”
“No. Not really. He still does some paperwork for Dad.”
“Ah.” Mason felt the tiny stab of jealousy inside him recede. He supposed he’d always been a bit worried that Mimi and Brian might work things out. It was so wrong of him to be happy that their marriage had failed! What kind of friend was he?
“You know, Mason,” Mimi said, “that little bundle of joy you’re holding is what gave my father the will to live. I think he fought that infection with every shred of strength he had in him just to see her grow up.”
“Miracle girl.” Mason kissed the top of her head again. “Don’t start thinking you’re special, though, toot.”
Nanette patted his face, then pretended to steal his nose.
“Okay, off to the park we go. You want to come?”
Mimi shook her head. “Thanks. You go on.”
Mason gathered Nanette in his arms then turned to look at Mimi. “I don’t think you should run for sheriff, either. It’s too dangerous. You need to think of your little girl.”
“And I’ve decided to take your advice on that matter. Of course, your horsey opinion doesn’t have anything to do with my change of mind, but I have thought long and hard on it. You’re right.”
Mason was shocked. “Is that a first?”
Mimi laughed. “Hell, yes, so don’t be annoying and gloat.”
“Humph.” He thought about her capitulation and wondered aloud, “What else could I get out of you while you’re in this easy mood? One ought to grab all the candy while the store’s open and free, I think.”
“I’m not exactly candy,” Mimi said.
No, but she was being sweet. He frowned. “Mimi,” he said, “have you ever thought about the fact that sometimes you and I really get along?”
Chapter Four
Hidden in the attic that he had accepted as his artistic loft, Crockett stared at the clay lump in front of him. This was definitely a new playground. Clay didn’t have the color of paints, or the lightness of spirit that said, “Create freely!”
But the lump represented wonderful opportunities. It gave him a chance to think about the new him. Sculptor. Artist of a molding medium. He worked the clay between his fingers. He had eschewed white, opting to start with red clay. Would he enjoy making something without a brush? He hoped he didn’t become frustrated or miss the sensation of a brush sliding across canvas.
“I have a barn to clean out, so you and I better come to terms,” he told the lump. “Be beautiful.”
“Crockett?” a voice called up the stairs.
Valentine! Blast! “Yes?”
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
So much for having a secret lair. Had someone put out a sign when he wasn’t looking? This way to Crockett’s cave? But if someone had to bother him he was glad it was Valentine. She was worth a break.
“Sure. Come on up.”
She appeared at the top of the ladder, and he reached to help her into the room. “This space is nice.”
He glanced around. “Not really.”
“Oh, sure. This is the perfect place to read a book! Especially on a rainy day.” She smiled, giving a fake shiver. “A cold, rainy day.”
“It’s July. Hard to think about cold, rainy days.”
“Yeah. You know, you just need a window seat up here, a fresh coat of paint, and this place would be a wonderful studio.”
Of course, she was right, but he didn’t want her redecorating his hideout. Ugly and in some disarray, it suited his mood. “Hey, what’s up, anyway? What brings you to the dustiest part of the ranch?”
She turned to look out the window, which he appreciated, because he could now evaluate her curves. Yes, she was just as he remembered: full and feminine and made for a man who appreciated round, apple-shaped—
“You’re making me self-conscious, Crockett,”