Judith Stacy - The Widow's Little Secret

True, he’d had no desire for any of those things for a long time, for a lot of reasons. But that was behind him now. Jared knew where his future lay.

So here he was.

Jared rested his thumbs in his gun belt and scanned Main Street one final time before going into the sheriff’s office. His office.

Not only did he have an office, he had a deputy who, at this very minute, was out keeping an eye on the streets of Stanford. He’d met Drew Tanner at the mayor’s house this morning. Tanner looked a little young and seemed a little green, but he had some experience and he was eager.

As sheriff’s offices went, this one was as good as any. Jared surveyed his desk, his racks of rifles, Wanted posters nailed to the walls, the little stove in the corner with the rocking chair next to it. Down the hallway were two cells, both empty at the moment.

Jared’s living quarters were there, too. The room was small, but it held everything he needed: a bunk, a washstand, a bureau. A place he could hang his hat every single night.

No more meals around a campfire. No more cold nights on the trail. No more hunting down lawbreakers who would knife him in the back or blow his head off given a second’s opportunity. He’d never have a daily dose of those kind of men again.

Jared smiled in the quiet office. The town of Stanford was peaceful as a Sunday morning, tame as a speckled pony. He could do his sheriff duties in his sleep.

Jared drew in a deep, satisfied breath. Yep, he was going to like it here in Stanford.

Pausing at the little mirror beside the stove, Jared straightened his badge and pulled his hat a little lower over one eye. He gave himself a brisk nod, then walked out into the streets of his town.

Spring had come to Stanford and should have been gone by now, but the pleasant weather hung on. The morning was warm. A hint of a breeze stirred.

Citizens crowded the boardwalks and the streets, going about their business. Jared strolled along, looking things over, watching for trouble, getting the lay of the place.

And looking for Mattie Ingram.

He stopped abruptly outside the Stanford Mercantile, realizing that his first walk-through of the town had taken him directly to the Cottonwood Café.

Well, why shouldn’t he head here first? It was the heart of the business district, he told himself. Nearby was the bank, the assay office and most of the shops. Places likely to draw criminal activity. Mattie and her Cottonwood Café didn’t have anything to do with it.

Jared pulled on his chin. No sense in lying to himself.

Mattie had been on his mind—and in his dreams—almost continually since he’d laid eyes on her. Since their night together.

Mattie was a widow, Jared reminded himself, her husband dead not quite three months yet. Of course, after what she’d told him about Ingram, Jared doubted she’d done too much grieving over him.

But after her proper period of mourning, dare he hope to court her himself? A little smile pulled at Jared’s lips. Yep, that’s exactly what he could do.

In the meantime, he’d have to settle for looking at her. Of course, he could talk to her, too. Have supper at her restaurant.

Think about rolling around in bed with her.

Heat rushed through Jared, pumping his blood faster. Damn, after all this time, thoughts of making love to Mattie still had the same affect on him.

He walked a little faster, trying to push those images out of his mind before he gave the townsfolk an impression of their new sheriff he didn’t want them to have.

But, as if he didn’t have a will of his own, Jared’s feet carried him across the street to the Cottonwood Café. He peered through the window. Only one table was occupied.

Good, he thought. If the restaurant wasn’t busy, that meant Mattie would have time to talk to him. But he didn’t want their reunion to take place in front of an audience. Jared circled the building.

As he walked he allowed himself to indulge in a little fantasy. On those long, lonely nights on the trail he’d often found himself thinking about how Mattie might react when she saw him again.

His favorite conjured-up scene was the one where she took one look at him, shucked off her clothes and jumped into bed with him.

Jared pulled on his chin. A hell of a nice vision—one he’d about worn out—but not likely to happen.

Next was the one where she confessed that she’d pined endlessly for him, prayed for his return, then shucked off her clothes and jumped into bed with him.

He’d even imagined that she said she loved him—then shucked off her clothes and jumped into bed with him.

“Damn…”

Jared shook his head, getting himself under control. Fact was, the best he could hope for when Mattie saw him was a smile on her face. That would be plenty. A smile would mean she was happy to see him. A smile meant…everything.

Rounding the corner of the restaurant, Jared stopped. His heart thundered in his chest.

Mattie stood on the back steps, holding on to the railing, gazing up at the sky. His insides seemed to melt.

Lord, what a pretty woman she was. At times over the past months he’d wondered if his imagination had turned her into something she wasn’t. But seeing her now, he knew that wasn’t true. Mattie was as pretty as he remembered.

She had on a gray dress with a black lace collar and cuffs. Proper mourning attire for a widow, but it did nothing to hide her swells and curves.

Jared headed toward the back steps, anxious to see her up close, talk to her. What the hell? Maybe she would shuck off her clothes and jump into bed with him.

“Mattie?” he called.

She spun around. Only a second passed before recognition bloomed on her face. Her eyes widened.

A little whimper slipped from Mattie’s lips. She splayed her fingers across her stomach.

“Surprise,” he said.

Mattie slapped her hand over her mouth and raced to the outhouse.

Jared frowned as he pushed his hat back on his head and watched the outhouse door bang shut behind her.

“Well, damn…” he muttered. Never ever had he imagined the sight of him would send her running to the privy.

The restaurant door opened and a gray-haired woman stepped outside, wiping her hands on a linen towel.

Jared looked at her hopefully. “Something she ate?”

Mattie slumped against the door of the outhouse, the coarse wood digging into her forehead. She had to get out of this airless little shed. The smell, the heat…

Her stomach rolled. Mattie swallowed quickly, fearful she’d be sick again.

But she didn’t want to go outside. He was there.

Her heart banged in her chest. What was he doing here? Why had he come back? And why did it have to be now?

Did he know? Had he somehow found out?

Mattie touched her palm to her stomach. Flat, still. No outward sign of the baby—his baby.

No, he couldn’t know, she decided. He couldn’t possibly know.

What should she do? Mattie thought frantically. Tell him?

Weeks ago when she’d found out she was carrying his child, she’d decided not to contact him. His presence would only complicate things.

Mattie twisted her fingers together. But now he was here. Did that change things?

Drawing in a deep breath, Mattie fought off the nausea that had plagued her for weeks, her spirits lifting a little as she realized that, like before, Jared McQuaid would be in town for only a day or so to pick up prisoners, probably. Then he’d be gone. All she had to do was keep her condition a secret from him—which would be a snap, since she didn’t intend to speak to the man—and by tomorrow he’d be gone, none the wiser.

And her baby’s future would be safe again.

Mattie gulped a few times, fighting off another wave of nausea and an unsettling nudge from her conscience.