Page 71 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 1

I got up the nerve to turn around and lean my forehead against the soft cotton of his shirt just below his collarbones. My head tucked perfectly under his bearded chin, and when his strong arms came around me, it felt as natural as breathing.

“I don’t think I’m ready for dirty things,” I admitted softly to his chest. “But just knowing you would want that is… really nice.”

I mentally kicked myself. Nice? That was an incredible understatement.

But it was nice. It was so nice, I suddenly felt like I could fall asleep in his arms and sleep for days. Like I could finally let go of carrying all the weight of being me and just… let him take the watch for a little while.

And that feeling was terrifying. Because I knew from experience the minute you let your guard down with someone, they held too much power over you.

Besides, there was a fine line between protecting and dominating, and a man like Sam Rigby had “domination” written all over him.

I wasn’t about to make that mistake again no matter how tempting it was.

I inhaled one last breath of him and then fortified myself before stepping back and plastering on a smile.

“Thank you for coming over and for helping with the packages. Hiram usually comes to pick them up around four thirty, so he’ll grab them from the front porch, no problem.

And I have loads of other work to do on the farm, so I really need to get out there.

It’s time to plant the cumin seeds so they can flower.

The flowers are really good at attracting beneficial insects which is why I like to put them in fairly early in the process. ”

Even though I heard myself talking too much, I couldn’t stop.

I huffed out a desperate laugh. “They attract parasitoid wasps and ladybird beetles, so I plant it near crops that have problems with caterpillars and aphids. But I learned that if you water it too much, cumin can get root rot which isn’t good.

” My breathing was getting shallower as I continued talking.

Sam’s face remained unreadable. His attention was focused on me, but I had no idea what he was thinking.

I continued blathering on. “Obviously. And it has a longer growing season which helps me spread out the planting and harvesting.”

I swallowed and tried gluing my lips closed. I failed. “And then I need to run by the shop to… do… things.”

Sam finally nodded once before speaking. “I make a really good cumin chicken and rice dish. Mikey taught me how to make it, so you know it’s good. Can I make it for you tomorrow night? I’ll have to use your kitchen.”

I stared at him. Hadn’t he heard what I’d just said? “You want to cook dinner for me? Here?”

He nodded again. “I mean… you’re welcome to come to Rockley Lodge, but I would prefer to have dinner with just the two of us. It’s up to you. Whichever makes you more comfortable is fine with me.”

Did he think cooking me dinner was going to lead to the dirty things he wanted to do to me? It wasn’t. There was no way I would put myself in a position of making a fool out of myself in front of a man who probably had advanced certifications in dirty sexual acts.

I was still staring at him. Finally, Sam turned and looked around the kitchen before noticing a little pad of paper and pencil on the counter where the house phone still sat attached to the wall even though it didn’t work anymore.

He walked over to it and scribbled something down on the pad before turning back to me.

“That’s my number. I’m going to be here at six tomorrow to start cooking. If you decide you don’t want me to come, just call or text me, okay? Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He started to take a step toward me like maybe he wanted to mark his departure with a kiss or handshake. But he stopped himself and smiled instead. “Enjoy your time in the garden, Truman.”

As he turned to leave, I finally found my voice. Rather, stupid Truman found my voice.

“You can use my cumin! I have… I have several kinds. Wild black cumin harvested by hand in Afghanistan. It’s probably my favorite.

And it has incredible health benefits.” I ticked them off on my fingers.

“Antidiabetic, antihypertensive, antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, neuroprotective, antimicrobial, antifungal… The list goes on and on. Even the prophet Mohammed said it could heal everything but death.”

I bit my lip to shut up the info dump, but when I saw Sam’s eyes spark with interest in what I was saying, I stopped biting my lip and allowed myself to smile a little.

“And if you want more eccentric spice trivia,” I offered, “come back tomorrow.”

At that, he grinned wide and nodded again before turning and walking out of the house in his long, possessing strides. I couldn’t help but stare at his butt as he walked away. His jeans fit him perfectly. What did that body look like without them? What did it look like when he did dirty things …?

And would I ever get up the nerve to find out? Maybe it was possible to let him do those things to me without letting him get close enough to cause real problems.

Instead of heading back into the garden to plant the cumin seeds, I decided to head into town to give my eyewitness report to the sheriff’s office before I lost my nerve.

Hearing Sam lie about other witnesses made me realize how much of a coward he must have thought I was.

The least I could do was support his complaint to have his bike repairs paid for by the responsible party.

Even if that party was someone who wanted to beat me to a pulp.

I ignored the nerves in my gut while I quickly changed into clothes that would bolster my confidence. Khaki pants, a plaid button-down shirt, and a deep blue bow tie Aunt Berry had sent me for my seventeenth birthday.

Thankfully, Sheriff Stanner wasn’t there when I showed up to make my statement. A stern-faced deputy I’d never met before took me back to his small office to fill out the paperwork.

“I’m Deputy Declan Stone,” he said, all business. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

He must have been new in Rockley County because he treated me like a regular person. There were no derisive smirks or poorly disguised sneers. He simply took my statement as straightforwardly as possible, only stopping for a moment when I mentioned the driver of the truck.

“Patrick Stanner? Any relation to the sheriff?”

At that point, I was sure he was new. Everyone knew Patrick and his brother, Craig. They were troublemakers and assholes. If their uncle hadn’t been sheriff, they’d have law enforcement files several inches thick by now.

“His nephew. You don’t know him?”

Deputy Stone shook his head. “I transferred from LA. I’m still just getting settled.

” He looked up at me. I assumed he was close to forty, but he looked good for it.

Some salt sprinkled into his pepper and a few lines around his eyes.

The man looked ex-military by the stiff way he carried himself and the closely shorn hair.

Something about him gave me a tiny amount of hope that there might be at least one non-partial member of the department.

“Welcome to Aster Valley,” I said politely. “It’s a lovely place to live.”

The twenty minutes I spent with him were cordial but professional.

I wished I knew him well enough to be able to confide my history with the Stanners to him and ask for his professional help in dealing with the sheriff’s bias, but I didn’t.

And I also had no desire to put the poor deputy between a rock and a hard place.

So I left the sheriff’s department and headed back into town to check in with Chaya, who’d agreed to open the shop for the afternoon and do some inventory work.

“Hiya, sweet thing,” she called from the back table when I walked in. The familiar scent of mixed spices and herbs was as comforting to me as sliding into my own bed at night. I took a deep inhale and let my shoulders drop.

“How was the riding lesson?” I asked, straightening a few bottles and jars on one of the front shelves.

“True confession time,” she said, leaving her work behind and making her way around the display tables to where I stood. “I’m in love with one of Nina’s cowboys.”

I laughed. That explained why my friend who hated getting dirty was interested in a dusty horse ride. “Which one? Because Hank Jolly is married, and Mato Pietaker is intimidating as heck.”

She grabbed my hand and danced me to the middle of the store. “Nick Humphrey, Nina’s nephew from California. And he’s neither of those things. He asked me back to the ranch for a cookout tomorrow night and said I could invite anyone I wanted.”

The bell over the door rang, but I was too busy trying to clear my head from the sudden twirl and dip maneuver to greet the customer. Chaya threw a smile in the general direction of the front door before asking if I wanted to come to the ranch barbecue.

“No, thanks. I have dinner plans with Sam,” I said while still a little dizzy from the dancing.

Chaya’s squeal of excitement was joined by a familiar clearing of the throat.

Barney.

“Oh, sorry, Barney,” I said, brushing my hair back from my eyes and straightening my glasses. “I didn’t realize that was you.”

“I guess not,” he said with a sniff. “I came by to see how you were faring after your scare yesterday.”

I tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Fine, thank you. How was the reading circle this morning?”

His forehead crinkled for a second like he didn’t follow, but then he must have remembered how much I loved hearing about the kids’ reading time at the library. “It was… normal? The same as always, really.”

“Who volunteered today?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager.

Reading to the children at the library was one of my favorite things to do, but Barney had taken me off the volunteer list a while ago, adamant that it would be “inappropriate” for his “special someone” to be involved in a library program like that.

Maybe now that we were no longer together like that, I could get back on the rotation.

“Ellen Amana,” he said with a wave of his hand as if it wasn’t important.

It was. Ellen was the mayor’s wife, who did a horrible job reading to the kids. It was clear she hated it and only did it for appearances.

I bit my tongue to keep from saying so. Thankfully, Chaya broke in. “Mr. Balderson, do you happen to have a book on how to become a kick-ass horsewoman in forty-eight hours or less?”

Barney blinked at her like she was an alien being from a faraway planet.

“I’m not sure that’s possible. Mastering the equestrian arts is a complex and nuanced endeavor.

But I’m sure I have some picture books in the children’s section that could get you off to the right start,” he said, barely holding back a sniff of disapproval.

“Not to mention several tomes about proper comportment for young ladies.”

Chaya’s nostrils widened in a silent laugh. “No need for that one, Mr. B. I’m good, thanks.” She glanced back at me. “You should really get going if you want to shower before your dinner date with Sam.”

I opened my mouth to remind her that the date was tomorrow night, and I wasn’t even sure it was a date, but she winked at me. “Just kidding. Maybe you could stick around and explain whether I’m supposed to inventory the bulk spices by weight or container.”

It was a ridiculous question because the Honeyed Lemon didn’t sell spices in bulk, but thankfully, Barney took it as his cue to leave but not before pulling me aside.

“Tell me you’re not having dinner with that man,” he said in a low voice as if he hadn’t found out about it from Chaya herself.

“I am having dinner with him.”

He looked truly shocked. “He’s a stranger. He’s a drifter.”

“He’s friends with Tiller and Mikey,” I corrected. “He’s in town for a few days to visit them on his way out to California.”

“You barely know those two either. Truman, really. Why this need to befriend everyone around you? It’s like you’re trying to prove something when you have nothing to prove. You’re fine just the way you are, sweet pea. There’s no need to make yourself into something you’re not.”

Was that what I was doing? I thought back to my interactions with Sam, Mikey, and Tiller. Had I been trying to be someone I wasn’t? I didn’t think so.

“They seem to like me as I am,” I began, a little unsure.

“Be that as it may, I think you’re better off letting me take you out for a nice dinner. We could go to that Chinese place you like.”

Before I could answer, Chaya called out another inane question about comparing ounces to grams and why did the basil, bay leaf, and caraway blend sound like a folk band name.

Barney cleared his throat to regain my attention. “Perhaps you’ll come see me at the library when you leave here so we can speak further?”

“Perhaps,” I said.

But I didn’t.