Four-Karat Fiancee. Sharon Swan
his palms on his snug-fitting Levi’s and reached up to tap his hat down lower on his forehead. “Looks like you’re getting off easy,” he told his opponent as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket. “I suggest you haul yourself up—and think about leaving town while you’re at it, because I’ve just decided that this place isn’t big enough for the both of us.”
Feldon mumbled what might have been a curse, then got to his feet and beat a swift retreat.
After watching him disappear around a corner, Dev looked at Amanda. “Are you all right?”
Vaguely aware of other voices echoing that question, she dipped her head in a nod and kept her gaze on the man walking toward her. The truth was that after everything that had happened that day and all she had on her mind, she found herself close to tears. Nevertheless, her pride had her determined not to shed any before an audience.
“Thank you,” she said, gazing into the deep blue eyes of the Heartbreaker Saloon’s owner. For coming to my rescue, she could have added, and didn’t. It was startling to realize that the person she’d been at odds with for so long had done exactly that.
He studied her, taking in what she hoped was at least a somewhat calm expression. She knew he wasn’t fooled by the way he frowned. “If you’re on your way home, I’ll walk you there.”
“That’s not necessary,” she assured him.
“Whether it is or not, I’m doing it,” he countered.
Too tired to mount a real protest, Amanda surrendered with another nod. The irony of it wasn’t lost on her. Who would have ever thought she’d give in to this man on anything? she asked herself. And did this mark a change in their relationship?
Something told her that just might be the case as she issued an absent goodbye to the people gathered around and fell into step beside him.
Dev’s blood gradually cooled as he concentrated on shortening his stride to match his companion’s. Their footsteps tapped out a slow rhythm as they walked down a darkening street. There was no point in wondering whether he should have kicked Feldon’s butt for good measure, he told himself. Hopefully, the jerk would take the advice he’d been given and leave town. If not, Dev vowed to personally see to it.
He might be a successful businessman—he might be a millionaire—but he could still get a dirty job done if necessary. This evening’s brawl had proved that. He hadn’t lost the knack of putting his fists to good use. Except these days he knew when to back off. Seeing Amanda Bradley safely home had been more important than continuing to pound on the man who’d been forcing himself on her.
A man who’d had more to drink than he should have at the Heartbreaker, Dev’s conscience reminded him.
He frowned in response, thinking that if someone was known to be driving, he and the two bartenders working for him didn’t hesitate to shut them off or take car keys away. But how the hell was anyone supposed to know that a man—a customer—would practically assault a woman steps from the saloon’s doorstep?
Sure, the Heartbreaker’s male regulars could get rowdy at times. But assault a female? No way. Most of them would have liked nothing better than to pound on Feldon themselves, given the chance. So instead of letting guilt nag at him over what had happened, Dev figured everyone would be better off if he just tried to do his damnedest to make sure it never happened again.
“Nice night for a stroll down Mega Bucks Boulevard,” he said in a bid to make conversation.
Amanda glanced up at him and spoke for the first time since they’d started their walk. “Do you find our mayor’s habit of renaming streets since the lottery win to be as bizarre as I do?”
The question, while straightforward enough, was issued in a softer tone than Dev was accustomed to hearing from the Ex-Libris’s owner—who, he remembered, had informed him somewhat haughtily during one of their go-rounds that the store’s name came from a Latin phrase that loosely translated meant “from the books.” And it was just as well she had told him, because he knew he’d have never figured that one out.
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Can’t see how renaming a few streets hurts anything.”
Jester’s mayor, Bobby Larson, had also been touting the idea of building a hotel on land now dedicated to the community park, and Dev was less sure how he felt about that plan. The one thing he was dead certain of was a definite desire to avoid town politics. He had plenty of other things to occupy him.
Such as his house, he thought as they crossed Maple Street, where the new Devlin residence would soon reach the move-in stage. He’d been headed there for the daily check he made on it when he’d found himself trading blows with Guy Feldon instead.
“Were you hurt in that fight?” Amanda asked, as though she’d caught the direction his thoughts had taken.
“No.” He had no intention of whining about a few aches and pains. “What have you got there?” he asked, changing the subject as he glanced down at the book she held tightly to her. All he could make out were the edges of a dusky rose cover.
“Oh.” She hesitated a moment. “It’s, ah, a novel, just something I thought I’d try.”
“Something different than you usually read?”
Again she paused. “Well, let’s just say it’s a change from what I’ve been reading lately.”
Her reply was just vague enough to have him wishing he could get a better look at that book. Maybe it would tell him more about the woman he’d come to think of as a thorn in his side. He still believed the best thing he could do was buy her part of the building they shared. He could even knock down the wall separating their properties, make a few changes to spruce up the bar area and expand his business—which was thriving, if he did say so himself.
Her business was another story, he more than suspected. If it weren’t for the pastries usually on hand in a sitting area at the back of the bookstore, along with tea served in fancy cups to wash down a helping of the local news of the day, how many customers would regularly visit the place? Probably not enough to turn a healthy profit. If only he could convince her to sell out to him.
They arrived at Amanda’s one-story white frame house in a matter of minutes. Dev took note of the fact that although it was a long way from new, it appeared well cared for. It was a far cry from the rundown house he’d grown up in on the outskirts of town, that was for sure. This place looked…homey, he guessed was the word, with its front yard enclosed by a short picket fence and what seemed to be, judging by what he could make out in the light coming from a nearby streetlamp, a circle of dried lavender decorating the plain wood door.
“I’ll wait until you get in before I take off,” he told her when they reached the covered front porch.
“All right.” She retrieved a key ring from her shoulder bag and opened the door, then switched on an inside light and turned back to him. “Thank you again for…” Stopping in midsentence, she stared up at him, her gaze narrowing. “You are hurt. There’s blood on your lip.”
That came as no surprise, since he’d started tasting it when they were halfway to her place. “It’s nothing,” he said.
“It’s something,” she replied with a trace of the brisk tone he more often associated with her. “Come in and let me have a look at it.”
He thought about declining. But it could be he’d get another opportunity to bring up the subject of buying her out. Deciding to take his chances, he said, “Okay,” and let her lead him into the house.
The inside seemed as homey as the outside, Dev concluded with a glance around the living room. Again everything looked far from new, but it also looked comfortable, even cozy—a lot cozier, certainly, than anywhere he’d ever lived.
Amanda laid the book she’d been carrying on a small end table and propped her leather shoulder bag on top of it. “Take off your jacket and have a seat,”