Page 18 of The Cowboy's Forbidden Bride

And yes, she supposed a case could be made for the fact that she was carousing now, but privately. But there was no way Tennessee knew that. Because if he did, he would not have been concentrating on the cash in front of him.

“You’ve never seemed that interested in the Copper Mine before,” he said instead. “Suddenly you’re there all the time.”

“Everyone’s there all the time.” She shook her head at him. “It’s actually weird that you’re not there all the time, Tennessee. Given that there’s nowhere else to go in this town.”

He let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that. Maybe this weekend I’ll go on a bender. That sounds like me.”

She bumped his hip as she moved around him, then wiggled her fingers at him as she headed outside into one of the last August afternoons of the year.

The mornings were getting colder now, but it was hard to remember that with all the sunshine of the afternoon. She tipped her face back as she walked down the road, letting the light dance all over her and smiling as she passed people she knew.

Summer got better here every year. Every Saturday there was the Farm and Craft Market, where local artists, craft makers, and businesses set up booths in the little square by the library. Anyone with something to sell, local produce and honey and the like, put out little stands at the bottom of their dirt roads. The artists who lived out in the hills kept a gallery going in one of the fields on the far side of the creek, there was a whole fiber and textile bazaar in one of the big barns nearby, and the food trucks were everywhere. Even Tennessee ran his summer plate specials.

The tourists came from down in Marietta or in from Livingston and even Bozeman, or sometimes from even farther afield, like all the way down in Jackson Hole. They came up for the weekend, wandered around, and fell in love with the place—and it was easy to see why. They marveled at how unspoiled it was here. They would look for real estate. They would talk a big game about buying land and building, when really what they wanted was the perfect summer escape.

On a perfect day like this, who wouldn’t want to live here?

Cat knew that the summer glory would keep going a little way into fall, but the first snow always came earlier than folks expected and it changed everything. It blocked off some of the roads that led way out into the mountains, where there were artistic communities and whole ranches dedicated not to livestock, but to creativity. It also started limiting what the farmers brought in, and the hours businesses stayed open, and the outdoor options were packed up until spring.

Every local knew that they’d better enjoy the summer days while they had them.

She walked around to the side of the store to find the little coffee truck that had started last summer thanks to yet another newcomer. But it was coffee. Who didn’t want more coffee options? Cat hadn’t been the only person excited when the weather started to get warmer and the coffee cart came back.

And since she always had to stand in line to order her drink, she figured that the mysterious Helena Patrick was hitting it out of the park.

“What are we going to do without you all winter this time?” she asked as she got her afternoon pick-me-up, iced coffee with a splash of cream. “What happens if I’m an addict?”

“You’re going to have to talk to your brother about that,” Helena said with a smile, her dark hair pulled back so it wouldn’t fall into the drinks and her gaze on the shots she was pulling. “Because I’m pretty sure the cart can make it through the winter if he’s okay with me parking it here. I’m willing to try, anyway.”

“We have to make sure this happens,” Cat said immediately, making a mental note to talk to Tennessee about it.

And as she walked away, she once again had that same odd inkling that she’d seen Helena somewhere before, when she knew she hadn’t. She’d met her like everyone else the May before last when Helena had arrived in town, moved into one of the cabins on the hill below the old lodge, and had started floating the coffee cart idea around shortly after.

She took a sip of her drink as she walked—it was perfect, as always—and told herself that Helena must just have one of those familiar faces. Probably everyone in town thought she reminded them of someone. One of these days it would come to her.

Down at Mountain Mama, the place was bustling. Cat didn’t recognize anyone at one of the tables out on the patio, so it was a good bet that they’d all come up for the day from Marietta, or other points down in Paradise Valley. She walked through the crowd that spilled from the cozy interior to the very edge of the patio, making her way to the counter, where the youngest Bennett sister, Indy, greeted her with a big smile and a bandanna wrapped around her strawberry-blonde hair like a headband.

“Check out this crowd,” she said with a laugh. “I thought it would be dead this weekend, what with Labor Day on Monday, but I guess Cowboy Point is everybody’s new holiday destination.”

“Go Cowboy Point,” Cat said. She placed her lunch order, then swiveled around on her stool, taking in not just the crowd but what their presence here meant.

Things really were changing. A lot of good people had been working hard to make sure that they did, that this place really could become something more than another dead western town too abandoned to even be a ghost town—and maybe that was why she felt so dissatisfied with everything. Or had, until recently. Because what was she doing to help move the needle? How was she helping Cowboy Point go from a wide place in the road filled with people who were here because they’d always been here, to adestination?

“This is a mob scene,” came a voice from beside her, “I obviously should have called in my order ahead of time.”

The voice was good-natured, and when Cat turned, she recognized the smiling woman who stood there. Ramona Taylor was tall and the kind of slim that suggested she was either highly anxious, did a lot of running for fun, or both. She looked elegant even though she was wearing jeans and boots like everyone else and a T-shirt with the name of the fancy college from back east emblazoned on the front. Her hair was up in one of those complicated braids that showed off all the many shades of blonde that were in it, and Cat had no doubt that she’d probably done that herself, without even looking in a mirror. Cat knew exactly one thing to do with her own hair. Wash it, brush it, and let it dry as it would.

Ramona was also a doctor, Cat knew, because of course someone that elegant wasn’tonlyelegant. She was also new to Cowboy Point.

“In my next life,” Cat said with a sigh, “I want to come back as you. Polished. Put together. Educated.”

“Effortless,” came Indy’s voice from the other side of the counter, in the same dreamy tone. “Not to mention poised, fascinating, and never wearing the scent of pizza dough and garlic like a perfume.”

“Or fried food from the family diner,” Cat agreed. “So enticing.”

Ramona laughed. “It worked!” she cried. “I’ve convinced you all that I’m the person I always wanted to be when I grow up. I knew I liked this place.”

And when Indy bustled off with her order, the doctor settled in next to Cat on the stool beside her like they were friends.

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