Lawfully Unwed Page 6

  “Montrose will see you out,” Vivian told Nell. “He can give you the tour on Monday when you arrive. He also can answer any questions you might have before then. One of my granddaughters has been acting as my personal assistant, but she’s away right now. So my man is delighted to fill in for Delia.” Vivian smiled at Montrose, and Nell was certain that she saw a hint of deviltry in her eyes.

  The same kind of deviltry that often lurked in Archer’s eyes.

  As for Montrose, he was clearly not delighted to be doing any such thing but he managed to exude both boredom and superiority.

  Under other circumstances, Nell would have been hard-pressed not to giggle. She felt a little as if she’d landed in some alternate universe.

  Instead, she kept her composure firmly in place and followed Montrose’s sedate descent down the fancy, curving staircase. It had a twin staircase on the other side of the room. Both led up to the second-floor landing that circled the entire space. “Are you in charge of the plants, Mr. Montrose? I’ve never seen anything so incredible.”

  The windows looked out on the wilds of Wyoming, but inside, a person would think they’d landed in a rain forest. The atrium was filled with exotic plants.

  Just one more reason why it all felt a bit unreal.

  “It is just Montrose,” he was saying with the faintest of sneers. “And I’m Mrs. Templeton’s chef.”

  For a moment she wished Ros could have heard him. He made Nell’s Snape-ishness sound tame. “I certainly don’t need to take you away from your usual duties. I’m sure I can find my way out if—”

  He cut a glance her way that effectively silenced her, and she followed him down the rest of the stairs and through a few doors that disappeared seamlessly into the wall as they swung shut behind them.

  Eventually, he reached the massive door through which she’d entered the mansion and held it open for her, bowing his head as she passed through. “I suppose you’ll be moving into one of the guest rooms.” His tone didn’t change but it was clear as day that he didn’t welcome the idea.

  She was no more inclined to discuss her housing needs with him than she had been with his boss. “Not that I’m aware of,” she said with her own measure of coolness. “It’s not something that has been discussed.”

  “It will be. Since she’s come to Wyoming, Mrs. Templeton has developed the habit of taking in strays.”

  “I’m not a stray,” Nell said evenly. “I’ll see you Monday morning, Montrose. Have a pleasant afternoon.” Before he could say anything else, she turned and briskly crossed the courtyard paved in herringbone bricks to where she’d parked her car. Her nerves were jangling as she got behind the wheel and drove away from the mansion.

  But she didn’t give in to them until she was well away from the mansion.

  Then she pulled off the side of the highway, put the car in Park and lowered her forehead to her steering wheel, hauling in several long, deep breaths. She had a job. She’d have money coming in again.

  And even though the position with Mrs. Templeton was temporary, it would give Nell some needed breathing space until she could situate herself more permanently.

  Regroup. Figure out what it really is you want to do.

  Archer’s words circled around inside her head but then a livestock semi roared past, making her car rock slightly, and she sat up again. She blew out a cleansing breath.

  “You’re moving to Weaver,” she said aloud. She absolutely was not going to entertain the notion of living at Vivian Templeton’s mansion if that option even arose. And although Archer had tossed out the suggestion that she use his guesthouse, she couldn’t imagine that he’d been serious.

  She’d find a place to rent that didn’t involve him.

  She waited until the narrow highway was clear again, then pulled out and finished the short drive into the town proper. Because of her previous times there, she was already somewhat familiar with Weaver. She knew that the newer part of town was on the far side, toward Braden, which was the next closest town—some thirty miles away. She was now driving through the more historical center of town. The speed limit was cut in half as the highway turned into the main drag.

  She drove past a picturesque park with a white gazebo in the middle of it, then the courthouse where she’d spent many hours sitting next to Martin Pastore as he administrated the Lambert estate on behalf of the state. And all that time she’d been oblivious to his under-the-table dealings.

  She let out a frustrated grunt directed solely at herself. “Move on, Cornelia,” she muttered as she slowed even further for a pickup truck reversing out of a slanted parking space into the street.

  When the truck was finished, it drove ahead of her and she impetuously angled her car into the spot it had just vacated. When her front wheels bumped the curb slightly, she parked, grabbed her briefcase and climbed from the car. She automatically locked it, then crossed the sidewalk and entered the restaurant on the other side.

  It was crowded. Lunch rush, Nell thought, and instead of joining the group of people standing to one side against the wall who were obviously waiting for tables, she crossed to the counter where one stool remained unoccupied near the cash register.

  The older gentleman sitting on the stool next to it glanced at her when she set her briefcase on the floor.

  “Mind if I sit here?” She touched her fingertips to the red vinyl-covered seat.

  “Only if you mind sitting next to me,” he said with a drawl. He had iron-gray hair, and the lines on his face could mean he was anywhere from sixty to eighty. His blue eyes were strikingly pale, sharp and clear, and held a glint of humor.

  She smiled in return and slipped out of her suit jacket. She folded it and laid it over the top of her briefcase. “Busy place.” She slid onto the round stool.

  The man smiled. The humorous glint in his eye seemed to take on a new dimension. “That it is. Take it you haven’t been to Ruby’s before.” His gaze flicked to her briefcase sitting on the floor between their seats.

  She shook her head.

  “You’re in for a treat, then. Specials are there.” He nodded toward the chalkboard on the wall. “I’m partial to the meat loaf sandwich.” He glanced at the very young, dark-haired waitress who approached and set an insulated coffeepot in front of him. “Thank you, darlin’.”

  The woman had a friendly smile and a pencil stuck in her untidy ponytail. “Sounds like Squire’s been telling you about the menu,” she said, nodding at Nell in greeting.

  Nell couldn’t help her small start of surprise at the name. She figured he was likely the same Squire whom Vivian had mentioned. It wasn’t exactly a common name.

  “I’m Tina.” The waitress was sliding a plastic-coated menu on the counter toward Nell. “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Soda pop?”

  The man next to her—Squire—was loosening the lid on the urn filled with fragrant coffee.

  She started to order coffee, too, but hesitated when she saw him pour his coffee into a nearly flat saucer rather than the cup itself. Then with the saucer balanced on his fingertips, he sipped from the edge.

  She realized she was staring and looked quickly toward Tina. “Coffee,” she finished, “with cream and sugar, please.” None of the other diners seated at the counter seemed to even notice Squire’s unorthodox use of his drinkware.

  Tina set a cup and saucer on the counter, turned the cup upright and filled it from another pot of coffee that she pulled from the warmer on the giant machine behind the counter. With her free hand, she set a small pitcher containing real cream on the counter, then added a tall glass sugar dispenser with a metal cap. “Specials are on the board,” she said, reiterating what Nell’s counter mate had already pointed out. “We’re out of cherry pie, though.”

  “Order up!” A grizzled man’s face briefly appeared in the pass-through window to the kitchen. A thick white plate full
of food clattered slightly when he set it on the stainless steel ledge. Then his face disappeared from view again.

  Tina turned away from Nell and grabbed the plate. “Thanks, Bubba,” she called through the pass-through before delivering it to a patron at the far end of the counter. On her way back, she scooped up a check and a wad of cash and coins.

  There was music playing—presumably from the shining jukebox standing in one corner. It wasn’t loud enough to rise above the clatter of dishes and voices, though. Half the occupants of the diner were men; nearly all possessed hat marks in their hair from the cowboy hats and ball caps that sat on tables or the ledges on the backs of booths. Three women still wore their cowboy hats and one had a mass of dreads piled to a spectacular height atop her head.

  The cash register pinged softly as Tina deposited the money, then she turned to Nell once again and pulled her pencil from her ponytail. “What can I get you?”

  The slab of meat loaf between thick slices of bread on Squire’s plate did look appetizing, but the scent of grilling burgers reigned supreme for Nell. Even though she hadn’t really looked at the menu and it wasn’t listed on the chalkboard, Nell ordered a cheeseburger and fries.

  “You bet.” Tina turned away again and stuck the order she’d written on the revolving rack in the pass-through. She turned back again with almost balletic grace and looked at the man next to Nell. “Squire, anything else I can get for you? Slice of chocolate pie?”

  The man shook his head. “Think I’ll pass, darlin’. All these weeks o’ this fine food and my shirts are getting tight.” He patted the front of his faded blue chambray shirt.

  Nell glanced at him. His stomach looked flatter than her own. Regardless of his age, he also looked fitter than her, too. “You eat here often, then?”

  “Every day since I’ve worked here,” Tina answered before Squire could. She set a napkin and flatware in place for Nell. “Nearly four months now.” She winked at Squire. “My boyfriend’s completely jealous, too, of my lunchtime date.”

  Squire chuckled, though the sound of it seemed a little forced to Nell.

  Another waitress—this one older than Tina—stopped at the cash register and stuck a check on the spindle. She gave Squire a stern look that was belied by the smile on her face. “You promised you’d stop flirting with my servers, Squire. What am I going to do with you?”

  “As much as I love you, Tabby girl, I’m too old to change my ways now. That grandson of mine you married should have told you that by now.”

  Tabby’s eyes sparkled. When she rounded the counter again, she dropped a fond kiss on Squire’s tanned, weathered cheek, greeted another customer by name as he entered, and headed off.

  Nell didn’t know if Tabby managed or owned the restaurant, but given the comment about her servers, she figured it was one or the other. It dawned on her, then, that the look in Squire’s eyes earlier had been pride.

  Vivian wore a similar expression whenever she spoke of Archer.

  Nell looked at her counter mate. “Something tells me you know a lot about this town.” She extended her hand. If this man actually was Vivian’s roadblock on the town council, she might as well get off on a good footing with him while she had a chance to. “I’m Nell Brewster. I’m moving here from Cheyenne.”

  His eyes crinkled as he returned the handshake. “Squire Clay,” he offered, thus confirming Nell’s assumption. “And you’ve made a fine choice. I’ll take Weaver any day over Cheyenne.” He slanted a look toward her briefcase. “Not many folks carry one of those around these parts.”

  She lifted her shoulder. “Professional habit, I’m afraid,” she admitted wryly. “Lawyer by trade.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her face. “You coming on with Tom Hook? Heard he was looking for someone.”

  “No.” She didn’t even know who Tom Hook was. “Not planning to officially practice here.” Not yet, at any rate. She unfolded the large paper napkin over her lap as Tina set a basket heaped with glistening golden fries and a plate with her cheeseburger and fixings in front of her. “Thanks, Tina.”

  “Ketchup and mustard?”

  “Just the mustard.” She took the bottle when it quickly appeared and squirted out a dollop on her burger. She arranged the lettuce and sliced tomato on top of that, fit the bun in place and decided she was never going to be able to get her mouth around the thing. She picked up her knife. “I have the feeling that you know everything about this town, Mr. Clay,” she told Squire as she cut her burger in half. “Can you give me the skinny on where I should begin looking for a place to rent? I don’t have the luxury of a lot of time.”

  “Make it Squire, child,” he said immediately. “Lot of apartments out by Shop-World. If that’s your cup of tea.”

  “Whatever is affordable and safe is my cup of tea right now,” she admitted wryly. She took a bite of the hamburger and nearly groaned in pleasure.

  “Ain’t a thing Bubba Bumble can’t cook,” Squire said with a knowing nod.

  She dabbed her napkin at her chin and sent a chaser of French fry after the burger. It was salty. Perfectly crisp on the outside. Tender and airily light on the inside. “Oh...my,” she said once she swallowed. She eyed the man next to her. “No wonder you come here every day.”

  He chuckled but the humor in his eyes seemed dimmed. “Things become a habit when you never expect it.” He looked over his shoulder. “Tabby,” he called out, “you have any vacancies at your triplex?”

  The waitress, delivering a tray of food to a table of three women and six children, paused. “Not right now.” When the delay in service earned her a cacophony of whiny complaints, she quickly turned her attention back to her customers and began doling out the baskets of food to the children. “Check the bulletin board,” she suggested. “People tack up all sorts of notices.”

  Squire glanced at Nell again. “By the door. You passed it on your way in.” He dropped his napkin atop his unfinished sandwich. “Most of the people who come in here are locals. You won’t go wrong with anything posted here.” He dropped some cash on the counter and stood. He was taller than Nell expected. “But if you have a question ’bout anything, come back here for lunch again tomorrow. I’ll be here.” He gave her a faint wink and then strode toward the door, offering a few comments to other patrons as he departed.

  Nell turned her attention back to her meal and watched as Tina cleared away Squire’s plate. The only thing he’d finished was the coffee. “He’s really here every day?”

  “Seven days a week,” Tina confirmed. She filled another insulated carafe and left it for Nell. “You doing all right?”

  “Yes, thanks.” Since it didn’t seem as though anyone was in a rush to claim Squire’s vacated seat, she moved her jacket to it and flipped open the top of her briefcase. It was an old-fashioned sort of thing but it was sturdy enough to cart around the mountain of legal files and briefs that she no longer needed to tote around. She pulled out her cell phone and flipped the case closed again and then caught Tina’s attention. “Don’t clear this away. I’ll be right back.”

  The busy waitress nodded and Nell went over to the front door and quickly scanned the bulletin board that was no longer blocked by waiting patrons. There were only two for-rent notices, though. She snapped photos of both, then turned back to return to the counter, but the sight of the tall blond man striding along the sidewalk outside the windows stopped her.

  She had the silliest desire to duck and hide, but it was almost as if Archer knew it, because his head turned and his eyes met hers. A moment later, he’d reached the door and was pushing through it.

  His eyes were devilish. “As I live and breathe. It’s Cornelia Brewster.”

  She gave him a look and returned to the counter and her meal. He slid onto the seat that Squire had vacated. There was just as much space between the two seats as there had been before, but now it felt like
it had been cut in half.

  She angled her shoulder as far away as she could to keep it from brushing against him. “I’ll never believe it’s a coincidence that you’re here.”

  “Why not? The world revolves on coincidences.”

  “You’ve talked with your grandmother.”

  “Nope. I was, however, meeting with a client over at the jailhouse. And anyone who knows anything knows that when you’re in Weaver and you have a chance to eat at Ruby’s, you don’t pass it up.” Looking as if he had frequently not passed it up, he reached right over the counter and retrieved a clean mug from the rack stored below. Then he filled it from the coffeepot that Tina had left for Nell.

  She thought about protesting, but concentrated instead on the excellent food. And she couldn’t really complain since he topped off her own cup at the same time.

  “Unless you’re checking out other opportunities of employment here,” he said after he tightened the lid on the urn again, “I’ll assume that you have talked with her.”

  “Yes.” She almost didn’t want to tell him, because he’d probably just crow about it. But then again, if it weren’t for him, she’d have never met with Vivian in the first place. Which meant he had more of a right to crow than she did to feel churlish. “I start on Monday.”

  He didn’t look surprised at all. His arm brushed hers as he lifted his coffee mug in a toast. “Congratulations.”

  She managed a smile and shoved two French fries in her mouth because she felt oddly shaky all of a sudden.

  “Need help moving?”

  More fries went into her mouth as she shook her head emphatically.

  “And you wouldn’t admit it if you did.”

  She wasn’t going to deny it. She toyed with her coffee cup. “Thank you for putting in a good word for me,” she finally said once her mouth was French fry‒free. “I owe you.”

  His shoulder bumped hers, this time quite deliberately. “Almost kills you to say that, doesn’t it.”

  She wasn’t going to deny that, either.