Rebecca Zanetti - Against the Wall

Preston’s phone call woke Sophie from a dead sleep the next morning. She blinked at the early morning light as it hazed through gauzy curtains. She reached for the cell, her mumbled “Hello” nearly a growl.

“Hi, Sophie.” The sounds of traffic and people filled the background. Preston raised his voice. “We’re at the airport on the way back to San Francisco and I just wanted to call and let you know.”

“What’s the plan?” She sat up and placed her back against the brass bedrail. Curls tumbled forward and she swatted them out of her eyes.

“We have a late afternoon meeting with the rest of the Charleton Group. Niles wants to discredit Jake Lodge before the commissioners make up their minds.”

Unease folded Sophie’s hand into a fist. “Do you think he’ll be able to do it?”

“No,” Preston said flatly. “I researched the guy. Lodge is solid.” He paused for a couple of beats. “He seems like one of the good guys.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” she murmured.

“If you need anything, and I mean anything, promise you’ll call. And until you give me a definitive answer, I’m keeping the booking on the cruise. Things will look better once you’re home where you belong.”

“I will, thanks.” She clicked her cell phone shut and got out of bed. The sooner she finished with Willa’s Garden, the sooner she could get home. She grabbed her toiletries and headed for the shower.

An hour later, Sophie crept quietly down the hall, not wanting to wake Mrs. Shiller.

“Hello there, dear.” Mrs. Shiller poked her bespectacled face out of the kitchen at the bottom of the stairs. “I have huckleberry pancakes and fresh coffee coming up.”

Sophie inhaled the sweet aroma of the purplish fruit filling the air as she descended the steps. She walked into the kitchen and took a seat at the large wooden table. Five places with delicate Prince Edward floral china perched atop linen placemats.

“Are we getting more guests?” she asked while pouring herself a cup of coffee from the old blue cast-iron pot.

“Just some friends coming for breakfast.” Mrs. Shiller bustled around the kitchen. “I hope that’s okay? I’m kind of known for my hotcakes.” A pretty pink blush filled her papery face as she placed butter and syrup on the table.

“The more the merrier,” Sophie said. Nothing like coffee and pancakes to brighten a girl’s day.

Voices filled the entryway in the other room. “Oh good, here they are.” Mrs. Shiller smiled as Commissioner Milston and a tall, slender woman entered the room. “Sophie, you know Commissioner Milston, and this is our friend Juliet Montgomery.”

“Call me Madge,” the commissioner said with a soft smile as she took a seat at the table.

“Okay, Madge,” Sophie agreed slowly. “I’m not sure we can really talk until you render a decision.”

“Oh, of course we can talk. Just not about your golf course proposal.” Madge helped herself to some coffee. A black silk tank top sat comfortably over black silk shorts and red sandals. She looked more like the sexy type of retired librarian than the stodgy one.

“Well, that makes sense.” As much as anything else did these days.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Juliet murmured as she took a seat. She looked to be in her early twenties with red hair and deep blue eyes. She wore a long flowered skirt, blue peasant blouse, and dangly silver earrings. A silver Celtic knotted pendant hung from a thick silver chain around her neck.

“Here we go.” Mrs. Shiller set an overflowing platter of pancakes in the middle of the table. “Dig in, ladies. Loni is running late this morning.”

“Loni is coming?” Sophie accepted the platter from Juliet. She dropped three cakes onto her plate before passing it to Madge with a quizzical look. “Why do I have the feeling this is more than friends gathering for breakfast?” Had she and Jake been seen last night? Making love against the house?

“Well, it isn’t,” Mrs. Shiller twittered as she sat next to Madge. “But there’s really no reason to turn bright red, Sophie. My goodness. Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Sophie choked out while grabbing her coffee cup for a deep swallow. She was saved from scrutiny by the front door banging shut. Though it wasn’t Loni who strolled in.

“Why, Sheriff, what a pleasant surprise.” Madge smiled.

“Yes, would you like to join us for pancakes?” Mrs. Shiller moved to rise from the table.

“No thank you, Mrs. Shiller.” Quinn gestured for the older woman to sit. “I have a meeting with Fish and Game in five minutes but wanted to give Miss Montgomery these papers.” He extended a stack of official-looking papers to the young woman sitting as if frozen at the table.

Crimson covered Juliet’s pretty face as she accepted the stack. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

Sophie felt for the woman but was relieved to be out of the limelight. Today Quinn looked like a tough country sheriff should. Long and lean with faded jeans, gray cowboy boots, and a thick blue button-down shirt open at the collar emphasized his deep black eyes. A mean-looking gun rode his hip, looking for all the world like it belonged just there.

“Are those the reports on the break-in?” Mrs. Shiller leaned forward.

“Yes.” Juliet glanced at the papers. “Have you arrested anybody?”

Quinn shook his head. “Not yet, but we have two suspects in custody. A couple of kids from Billings looking for quick money to buy drugs. We’re waiting for one to crack.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Read those over, sign your statement if it’s correct, and we’ll meet up later today to talk about it.” He turned toward the door.

“Actually, I’ll just give them to Loni after our meeting today,” Juliet said, her eyes still on the paper.

Quinn stopped at the kitchen doorway and turned, one dark eyebrow raised, his square jaw set hard. In that moment, Sophie could see the resemblance between the brothers. “No. Be at my office at noon, Juliet.” Then, he was gone.

Sophie broke the uncomfortable silence hanging in Quinn’s wake. “He reminds me of his brother.”

“Pain in the butt,” Juliet said with an eye roll.

“Exactly.” Sophie shared a grin with the redhead. Odd as it seemed, in that moment, she made a friend.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind having that kind of a problem.” Mrs. Shilling tittered, her eyes on her pancakes.

“Amen, sister,” Madge agreed with a grin as she dug in. “Though I’m sorry about the break-in at the gallery, Juliet. Were many paintings taken?”

“Gallery?” Sophie asked after swallowing a bit of heaven.

“Yes. I own the Maverick Art Gallery.” Juliet wiped her mouth on a frilly napkin. “I lost one painting and one statue. Hopefully they’ll be recovered.”

“You were at the gallery during the break-in?” Sophie asked, her eyes wide.

“Well, not really. I have a small apartment above it, so I was at home. Didn’t hear a thing, either.” Juliet returned to her breakfast, her shoulders hunched.

The discussion concluded as the front door closed quietly, and Loni rushed into the room. “You started without me.” She took the final seat at the table and reached for the platter of pancakes.

“The hotcakes were ready.” Mrs. Shiller passed butter and syrup toward her friend.

“Have you asked Sophie?” Loni asked before taking a bite and closing her eyes in bliss.

“Asked Sophie what?” Sophie narrowed her gaze.

Loni’s eyes popped open in surprise. “Oh. Hmm. Guess not.”

“We were waiting for you.” Madge nudged Loni with an elbow. “Plus, we watched Quinn try to boss Juliet around first.”

“Those boys, I don’t know where they get it.” Loni shook her braided head.

Twin humphs of disbelief came from Mrs. Shiller and Madge.

Loni rolled her eyes. “Here’s the deal, Sophie. Juliet owns an art gallery and has promised us a showing of art depicting Maverick County, the Kooskia Tribe, and the Montana wilderness.”

“That’s a great idea.” She hoped she’d get a chance to see the artwork before leaving town.

“Great, it’s all settled, then.” Loni turned back to her breakfast.

“Ah, wait there, Loni.” Juliet sat forward. “I haven’t seen Sophie’s work yet.”

“My work? Why would you see my work?” Sophie took a drink of coffee.

“Of course.” Loni nodded. “Sophie, would you go grab your sketchbooks for Juliet? Then we should probably come up with some sort of timetable.”

“Wait a minute. My work? Timetable? What exactly is going on here?” Sophie set her cup down with a dull thud.

Juliet tilted her head to the side. “You said she was onboard for the project, Madge.”

Madge shrugged and concentrated on the bite remaining on her plate.

“Why, you’re our artist. I thought that was obvious.” Loni gestured to Mrs. Shiller, who rose from the table and exited the room.

Sophie shook her head in disbelief. “I’m not an artist. I’m a landscape architect. Specializing in golf course design.”

“You’re an artist working as a landscape architect. Your heart and soul belong to your craft. Anybody can see that.”

“Loni—”

“Sophie left it in the parlor last night. Here we are.” Mrs. Shiller returned with Sophie’s large sketchbook and handed it to Juliet, who peered over the top at Sophie.

“It is okay?” Juliet asked quietly.

Sophie blinked several times, overwhelmed by the compelling force of the women around her. “S-sure, I guess.” Her stomach dropped as Juliet flipped open the cover. Juliet was a real gallery owner. What if she thought Sophie sucked?

“That’s him. That captures him so perfectly.” Loni breathed out at the charcoal of Colton grinning. She made similar comments as Juliet flipped the pages one by one.

“It’s me!” Mrs. Shiller exclaimed at the sketch with soft sunlight sparkling over her face as she kneaded bread.

“Look at Tom.” Loni’s eyes softened at the portrait of her husband perched on a paddocked white fence. “And me.” She turned smiling eyes on Sophie. She had captured Loni watching her sons at the picnic with a mixture of love and resignation.

“Oh my,” Madge murmured at the charcoal of Jake staring out of the page. Determination lit his eyes while strength ruled his face—all male, all warrior. “Look at that man.”

Juliet closed the book. “These are incredible. Do you also work in oils?”

Hope flared to life in Sophie’s chest. She didn’t even try to quash it. “Yes. Watercolors, too.”

“You have the showing if you want it.” Juliet gave her a slightly apologetic grin.

“She wants it,” Loni chimed in as both Madge and Mrs. Shiller clapped.

“Now wait a minute.” Sophie rose from the table. “A project like that would take a year, maybe two. I’m only here for another week, ladies.” She carried her empty plate to the sink to rinse off and felt the silent communication going on behind her.

“Will you at least think about it?” Loni asked.

“I’ll think about it.” Sophie wouldn’t be able to think about anything else. She kinked her neck to the side before turning around. A real art showing—of her work. The thought was beyond anything she’d dared to dream about.

If she wasn’t careful, however, Maverick Montana would become too wonderful to leave. And she had to leave. Right?

Jake found Sophie sketching in an alcove in Shiller’s backyard. She sat on a stone platform surrounded by rose bushes, climbing flowers, and greenery, looking like a sexy forest sprite. “I decline your offer,” he said softly, tucking his hands in his jeans.

She started and glanced up, her eyes refocusing. “What offer?”

“When you said we’re over. I decline.” He’d spent a restless night trying to figure out how to change her mind, and finally decided the direct approach would be best.

Her grin flashed a flirty dimple. “It wasn’t an offer—it was a statement.”

That dimple roared a hunger through him that weakened his knees and hardened his cock. “Then I reject your statement.”

She closed the sketchbook, her gaze dropping to the bulge in his jeans. “Doesn’t look like rejection to me.”

Was she being coy? “Don’t underestimate me, Soph.” It was only fair to give her warning, even while claws of need ripped through his groin.

She blinked back at him, her eyes darkening to cobalt. “Look who’s talking.” Desire washed her delicate cheekbones with pink, matching the cute skirt that only went to her knees. Those cowboy boots made her legs look impossibly long.

He could find happiness with this woman. The thought flew out of nowhere, and he batted it away. For now, he just wanted a taste. So he knelt between her legs, his palms sliding up her thighs.