Starting Over (Nugget Romance 4) Page 7

  “Hi, is your mother home? I’m here to get boots made.”

  The girl didn’t say a word, just disappeared inside the house. Emily and Sam looked at each other like What do we do now? But a few minutes later a woman appeared.

  “Hi, I’m Tawny.”

  “Emily Mathews. I called about boots.”

  “Yeah, come on in.” Tawny opened the screen door for them.

  Like the outside, the inside was tidy but extremely modest, with only a worn couch and a set of mismatched recliners in the living room. Tawny led them through the closet-sized kitchen, out the back door to a stand-alone workroom. The space, probably an old garage, housed bolts of every kind of leather imaginable. Along one wall sat a line of worktables and several industrial-looking sewing machines. Rows and rows of boots cluttered the other walls.

  Sam didn’t know where to look first. There were cowboy boots made from exotic skins, ones with fancy stitching, others with elaborate inlaid designs, and ones that were monogrammed. Every one a work of art.

  “Wow,” Sam said. “You made all these?”

  “Yes,” Tawny said, and Sam noticed that she was quite pretty. Long brown hair and green eyes that tilted up like a cat’s. But there was also something hard about her, like maybe life hadn’t treated her too well.

  “I’ve never had boots made for me. How do we do this?” Emily asked.

  “First I’ll trace your feet, then you’ll pick heel and toe styles, shaft height, and the leather you want. After that, we can start working on a design.”

  “Okay,” Emily said, examining the rows of boots and looking a little lost. “The only thing I’m absolutely set on is that they’re white to match my dress. And I’d like the McCreedy Ranch brand on them. The rest I’m open to.”

  “Have you done wedding boots before?” Sam asked.

  “Yep.” Tawny went over to a shelf, pulled out a fat binder, plopped it down on the table, and opened the book, which was filled with pictures of wedding boots. Some were tacky with cut-out hearts and ap-pliqués with the words “Just Hitched.”

  “We wouldn’t want anything like that,” Sam said, pointing to the ones with a cartoon bride and groom, and noticed a barely perceptible smile on Tawny’s lips.

  “It’s entirely up to you,” she said.

  “We probably just want simple. Right, Emily?”

  “Yeah, but with a little flair.”

  Tawny motioned for Emily to sit in the chair in the back of her studio. “Let’s get the measuring and tracing out of the way.”

  Emily sat and kicked off her flats. Tawny went to work drawing, while Sam and Emily continued to eye the shelves.

  “I like those,” Emily said, pointing to a brown pair with bright floral embroidery.

  Tawny finished tracing and got them down off the shelf so Emily could take a closer look.

  “I guess all these colors would be too much,” Emily said, and Sam could tell she really loved the boots.

  “What if we did a tone on tone thing, making the background one shade of white and the flowers a slightly different shade of the same color?” Sam asked.

  “We could do that.” Tawny leafed through her white leather samples and threw a couple of choices on the table. In a plastic tub, she sorted through a dozen spools of white thread and just like that put together a palette of varying shades of white.

  “What about the McCreedy brand? Where would we put it?” Emily asked, getting out of the chair. “I’ve got pictures of it in the van.”

  “I have it.” Tawny walked over to a bank of file cabinets and pulled out sketches of the brand. When Emily looked a little surprised, Tawny said, “I used to make Tip’s boots.”

  Emily told Sam, “Tip was Clay’s father. He died two years ago from a heart attack.”

  “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

  “Where on the boot do you want the brand?” Tawny seemed anxious to move this along.

  “Hey, ladies.” Donna glided into the workshop in her usual exuberant fashion. “You pick something yet?”

  “These.” Emily held up the embroidered boots. “We’re talking about doing a white-on-white thing.”

  “Ooh, I like.” Donna walked around the room, gazing at all the boots. “Tawny, where’s the ones you made for Merle Haggard?”

  “At his house,” she said, and Sam presumed Tawny and Donna were friends. In a town like this, Donna had probably watched Tawny grow up.

  “Show the girls what they look like,” Donna said.

  Tawny got out another fat binder, turned the pages and pointed to a pair of snakeskin boots.

  “Do you make boots for a lot of country music stars?” Sam asked.

  “Not just country-western singers,” Donna boasted. “She made a pair for Tom Hanks. And the one who sings like a girl . . . you know . . . the one with the hair.”

  “Chris Isaak,” Tawny said.

  “Really?” Emily got excited. “I love him. Was he nice?”

  “Very nice.” Tawny nodded.

  “Who else have you made boots for?” Emily wanted to know. “What about the Dixie Chicks?”

  “No. Some of the players for the San Francisco Giants. A couple of winemakers and lots of rodeo cowboys.”

  Sam wondered why then did Tawny seem so down on her luck. Boots like these must cost a pretty penny.

  “So where do you think we should put the brand?” Emily held up her inspiration boots.

  “Is your wedding gown full length ?” Tawny asked, and Sam dug into her purse for a picture of the tea-length dress to show her. “If you want people to see it, you’ll have to put it on the vamp. It might look funny with all these flowers.”

  “Hmm, what about here?” Emily pointed to a low spot on the boot next to the heel.

  “That could work.” Tawny seemed to be thinking about it. “Do you have any accent colors? I don’t think we should do the brand in white. It’ll get lost.”

  “It could be your something blue,” Sam said.

  “I love that idea,” Donna agreed, and Tawny went back to her samples to pull a few swatches of blue leather.

  “I thought we would just burn it in, like they do to the cows,” Emily said.

  “We could do that. But I thought this would be dressier.” Tawny grabbed a pair of black boots off the rack and showed her a brown leather brand that had been inlaid onto the shaft.

  “I like that,” Emily said. “Can we go with the same kind of heel and toe on the embroidered boots?”

  “Yep. We’ll keep this whole shape—same shaft height and everything. Does that work?”

  “Perfect,” Emily said, and Tawny asked to measure her calves one last time.

  There would still be a few fittings, but Tawny assured Emily that the boots would be done on time. Sam, who had never owned a pair of cowboy boots, was seriously considering coming back for a custom pair. She’d have to think about a design, something that would depict her new life here.

  When Sam got back to the inn, Maddy’s husband, the police chief, was there.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, fearing that there’d been an emergency.

  “Yep. Just dropped by to see Nate. We’re holding a little shindig at the house this Sunday.” His radio went off with Connie, Nugget’s 911 dispatcher, on the other end. “I’ve got to respond to this,” he told Sam. “Get the details about the party from Nate.” Seconds later he ran out the door.

  Andy sat at the front desk, looking glum. Sam leaned over the counter to see if she’d gotten any messages. Most people called her direct line and left a voice mail, but occasionally they would call the inn’s main number.

  “Your father called.” Andy handed her a pink slip with a message. “He says you don’t answer your cell or office phone.”

  She’d actually blocked his calls. Why couldn’t he be a normal father and let her live her own life? The man had to be the most controlling person in the entire universe.

  “How was your gig, Andy?”

  “It wa
s great. You missed a hell of a show.”

  “Next time for sure,” she said. “Is Nate in his office?”

  “Yeah. The jack-off’s been here all day.”

  “You shouldn’t call him that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s disrespectful, and one day he might hear you.”

  Andy didn’t look too concerned. “I might get a job at the Gas and Go, working for Griffin Parks. Now he’s a decent guy.”

  The last thing Griffin needed was an employee like Andy. But she kept that to herself. Griffin had recently bought Nugget’s one and only gas station and had completely modernized it. He also ran a custom motorcycle shop in the same garage. And as the owner of Sierra Heights, Griffin also happened to be Sam’s landlord. Small town.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” Andy asked.

  “I’m getting my hair cut on Saturday.” And apparently going to a party on Sunday, which ordinarily she would’ve totally enjoyed. But having her boss there would make it weird. Especially given that her boss was Nate.

  “You wanna hang out?”

  Oh boy. Andy had to be at least eight years younger than her. “Uh, I don’t think this weekend will work, Andy.”

  “Okay. Maybe next weekend.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She turned around and smacked directly into Nate’s hard chest. He gently grasped her shoulders to right her and Sam felt an electrical charge go through her. She chalked the sensation up to being a red-blooded woman who appreciated a nice-looking man. Nothing more.

  “Where have you been?” he asked.

  “I had to do a wedding errand with Emily.”

  She wanted to avoid this conversation like the Ebola virus. Still riding high from yesterday’s Landon victory, Sam didn’t want to upset their ceasefire.

  “Come into my office for a second?”

  Uh-oh. Sam wanted to make up an excuse why she couldn’t, but followed him anyway. Either he planned to scold her for taking too long at Tawny’s, or he’d found some other infraction to hang on her.

  “Shut the door,” he said, and Sam thought not good. “Have a seat.”

  Sam dragged the wing chair from the corner so she’d be facing him.

  “I just wanted to thank you again for landing the Lowery reunion,” he said. “It’s huge for us and if not for you, we would’ve lost him. I also wanted to see if you’d be up for working a bridal expo the first weekend in June. A couple of Breyer Hotel representatives, including Tracy, will be there. It’ll be a good opportunity for networking and selling.”

  Okay, not what she had expected. “It’s in San Francisco?”

  “Yep. It’s actually at the Belvedere, a Breyer property. We’ll fly you down, put you up, and take care of your meals.”

  “Will you be there?” She didn’t know why she’d asked that. Nerves, she supposed.

  “In San Francisco, but not at the expo. Is that a problem?”

  “Of course not,” she said. “I’d be happy to do it.”

  “Good.” He flashed a smile that made her insides do somersaults. The man could be charming when he wanted to.

  She figured the sudden turnaround was due to the Landon deal, but she didn’t plan to question it too hard. Nope, just go with it, she told herself.

  “Is that it?” she asked.

  “That’s it.”

  She got up to leave, and he said, “I still owe you a drink.”

  “Okay”—she threw up her arms—“why are you being so nice to me?”

  He leaned his chair back on two legs and chuckled. “The truth: I’m trying to apologize. Tracy was about to blow the Lowery deal big-time, and that was on me for taking it away from you and giving it to her in the first place. I still think you’ll get bored and leave us high and dry. But you at least deserve credit for Lowery.”

  She shook her head in exasperation. “Well, thank you for that. I’m going to my office now.”

  “Why are you suing your dad?”

  “Uh . . . nosy much?” Only four months in Nugget and she already talked like Harlee and Darla.

  He shot her another one of his big, fat smiles. “You brought it up last night.”

  She plopped back down into the chair. “He’s trying to extort me to come home.”

  “Oh yeah? What does he have on you?”

  Her beloved summerhouse. “Property that has been in my mother’s family for centuries. He’s threatening to sell it.”

  “But if you return to Connecticut he won’t?”

  And marry Royce too. Her father hadn’t made it one of the conditions, but knowing him, it was all part of his grand scheme to manipulate her into being his Stepford daughter. “Right.”

  “Did your mother leave you the property?” Nate asked.

  “She left me her share—a third. The other shares belonged to my two aunts.”

  “Belonged?” He was still leaning back in the chair, his head resting against the wall.

  “My father bought them after my mother died,” she said. “And he promised to leave them to me in his will.” Unfortunately, George Dunsbury’s promises weren’t worth penny stocks.

  Nate looked doubtful. “It seems like he would be pretty well within his rights to change his mind. What did your lawyer say?”

  “That I don’t have a case. He can leave the property or sell his shares to whomever he wants.”

  “So what do you plan to do?”

  “Sue him anyway. It could stop a sale, since I own a third of the house and don’t want to put it on the market. But more important, my father hates when our family business is aired publically and a lawsuit would be very public.”

  “The old man must’ve had a coronary over the headlines generated by your . . . uh . . . failed wedding.”

  The “Runaway Bride” headlines had put him over the edge. “To say he was unhappy about it would be an understatement.”

  “Samantha”—he sat upright—“are you just trying to assert your independence or do you really not want to go home?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Both.”

  He studied her for a few minutes, obviously trying to determine her true motives for the lawsuit. The man had it stuck in his head that her new life in Nugget was a charade; no matter how hard she tried to convince him otherwise. She didn’t get it. But it was his problem, not hers.

  “Then I wish you luck,” he said. “I have a good real estate lawyer, if you want a second opinion.”

  “Thank you. But I’m okay for now.” She hoped that the mere threat of a lawsuit would be enough to stop her father from meddling in her life. What she really wished is that George would come out here and see Nugget for himself. Maybe then he would understand how she’d fallen in love with the place.

  She got to her feet and remembered the party. “Rhys invited me to the house on Sunday, but he got a call before he could give me the details. He said I should get them from you.”

  “I’ll email it to you,” he said, already lost in something on his computer.

  Chapter 6

  “Get away from the grill, you’re destroying supper.” Rhys pulled the spatula out of Nate’s hand, shoved him away from the Weber, and flipped a row of burgers away from the flame just in the nick of time. “What? You fall asleep?”

  The truth was Nate had been focusing all his attention on Samantha, who stood with a klatch of women on Rhys and Maddy’s porch, drinking wine. She had on a pair of jeans, a crisp white button-down blouse, and some kind of jaunty scarf tied around her neck. The whole outfit should’ve been overkill for a backyard barbecue, but it wasn’t.

  She looked like a freaking goddess.

  “Who you looking at?” Rhys smirked and let his eyes wander over to Samantha. The man never missed a thing.

  Nate ignored his brother-in-law. “When are Sophie and Mariah getting here?” He wanted to see his daughter. Every day Lilly seemed to change in some subtle but miraculous way. Her eyes got browner and her hands moved more. Last time he’d seen her she’d grabbed
for his necktie. Nate hated the thought of missing any of the big moments.

  Rhys shrugged. “When they get here. Why don’t you make yourself useful and replenish the beer.”

  Nate started for the house and got waylaid by Donna. “You hear about the Addisons putting in a swimming pool?”

  “At the Beary Quaint?” The motel was the only other lodging option in Nugget and there was nothing quaint about it. The owners had gone bonkers with bears. Every kind of bear imaginable—stuffed, wooden, plastic, ceramic, even bear toilet-seat covers—littered the property like a creepy theme park. Seriously, the place could be the setting for a horror movie . . . the bears coming alive, doing freaky things to the guests.

  Besides despising the Beary Quaint, Nate didn’t like the motor lodge’s owners. When he and Maddy had first bought the Lumber Baron, the Addisons had tried to put them out of business. They’d pulled all kinds of stunts to turn the city against him and Maddy. In the end, of course, the Addisons lost. But Nate was known to hold a grudge or two.

  “Yep,” Donna said. “From what I hear, they’re putting the pool right in front, so motorists can see it from the highway. And are you ready for this? The main attraction is a water slide that goes through the belly of a bear.”

  Nate nearly choked. “Those people are on crack.”

  “Who’s on crack?” Maddy handed Emma to Sam and came off the porch.

  “The Addisions are putting in a swimming pool, complete with a bear slide,” Nate told her.

  “No!”

  “Yes,” Donna said. “Apparently the Lumber Baron has them running scared.”

  “They’re not even in our league,” Nate said.

  “Maybe we should get a pool.” Maddy bit her bottom lip, like maybe the Addisons were on to something. “Of course ours would be tasteful.”

  “With one of those swim-up tiki bars,” Donna added. “And cabana boys. Lots of cabana boys.”

  “We’re not getting a pool.” Nate needed to ditch the crazy ladies. Like now.

  He scanned the party for Soph or Mariah and when he didn’t see them, excused himself from Fantasy Island to get the beer. On his way into the house, he passed Sam. She smiled at him and an image of her wearing nothing but that smile surfaced. Not good. Back away from the redhead.