Roxann Delaney - Designs on the Cowboy

Before he could think of some kind of stinging response, she’d turned to walk out the kitchen door and into the night.

“She wouldn’t dare,” he said, sinking to his chair. At least he didn’t think so.

But by the next morning, he wasn’t so sure Erin wouldn’t do exactly what she’d said she would. His sister had a mean streak that rarely showed itself, but he’d seen it last night. He hadn’t been at his mental best then, but now that he was thinking more clearly, he knew better than to take her threat lightly. And all he could do was wonder and wait for whoever it was she’d hired to show up.

He hadn’t noticed a vehicle driving into the yard the next morning, but he heard a knock on the door of the screened-in porch off the kitchen as he sat drinking his morning coffee. “It’s open,” he called out.

“Dylan?”

He looked up at the sound of the female voice to find a pretty blonde woman he hadn’t seen since high school standing in his doorway. Clearing his throat, he stood and searched for something to say. “Yeah, it’s me” was the only thing that came to mind.

“And looking just the same as you did in high school,” she said, with a smile he’d never forgotten. “You need to bottle your secret.”

He couldn’t believe he was having a conversation with Glory Caldwell. Or Glory Caldwell Andrews, he quickly corrected. The most popular girl in school, who’d been head cheerleader, Prom Queen and so many other things, actually remembered him. And he’d been...well, he’d been nobody special and never thought she knew he existed.

“What is it you have there?” She stepped inside the kitchen and picked up the paint samples he’d grabbed at Mercer’s Hardware the day before. “Paint chips?”

It was the reminder he needed to come to his senses. When he did, it was clear to him why Glory was standing in his house. “You’re the one Erin hired?”

Glory nodded. “Did she tell you how excited I am to have this opportunity? I’ve always loved your house. It’s so big and grand—”

“You remember it?” He couldn’t think of any reason she would.

Her cornflower-blue eyes widened. “Anybody who’s been around Desperation for very long knows the Walker place. Besides, you and I went all through school together. It isn’t as if we’re strangers.”

He wasn’t quite sure how to take that. As far as he knew, they might as well have been strangers. But he couldn’t very well tell her that.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

His answer was a shrug. He’d forgotten as much of his childhood as he could. “I really don’t remember.”

“I do. I remember watching you play baseball from the time we were kids.”

She did? He had a hard time believing it, but he’d never thought she was someone who said things just so people would like her.

“And you were good. Don’t you forget that, Dylan Walker.”

“Thanks.” But he didn’t mention that he hadn’t had a glove on his hand or thrown a ball for fifteen years. Nor would he ever again.

She pointed at the paint chips. “You understand that I can do much more than brush on a little paint, don’t you?”

He looked at the Creamy Ivory and Oyster samples, and all he saw was white.

“There’s so much you can do these days with color,” she said when he didn’t answer.

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yes!” She ducked her head as her cheeks turned a soft pink. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at him from under her lashes. “It’s just that, well, I’m so excited to have the job of redecorating your home.”

“Yeah? So you have some ideas?”

“Maybe a few.”

He thought about it. She’d probably do a good job, but he had a bad feeling about the whole thing. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was or why. “I’ll be honest here, Glory,” he said, trying to think of the best way to tell her he didn’t want her there. “None of this was my idea.”

Seconds ticked by before she spoke. “I understand.” Reaching into the big bag that hung from her shoulder, she frowned and shook her head. “I have a— Ah, here it is,” she said, pulling out a card. Instead of handing it to him, she walked around the table to where he stood. Smiling, she stuck the card in his shirt pocket. “Just let me know when I can start.”

He watched her turn and walk out the door. He didn’t want Glory Andrews in his house and should have told her not to bother coming back. But her arrival proved to him that his sister would stick by her word. He really didn’t have a choice. He would have to let Glory do whatever it was his sister had hired her to do.

After picking up his cup and taking another drink of coffee, he pulled out the card she’d put in his pocket and looked at it.

Glory Be Antiques and Decorating.

* * *

GLORY STOOD AT the window of the shop, looking out at the town she’d left behind almost fifteen years before. Things had changed more than she’d expected them to, but from what she could tell since returning to town two weeks ago, it was still the Desperation she remembered.

It wasn’t only the town that she was thinking about, but her encounter with Dylan Walker four days earlier. Never, never had she ever used feminine tricks to lure anyone—especially a man—into doing something she wanted. But it couldn’t be helped. She’d promised his sister, who had warned her that he wouldn’t be receptive, that she would find a way to get Dylan to agree to let her restore and redecorate the house where Erin and her two brothers had grown up. Erin had explained that it needed some updating, but she didn’t trust Dylan to do it, much less do it right.

She hadn’t heard anything from Dylan since then, and she was beginning to worry. Erin was counting on her—and had paid her a hefty retainer she desperately needed. Even so, she didn’t feel right about barging into the house and taking over without his approval. And she sure hadn’t gotten that.

The sound of footsteps coming down the old wooden stairs that led to the upper floor of the building dragged her back to the present. Pushing her apprehension about the job aside, she hoped she didn’t appear worried.

“Did I hear the door?”

Putting a smile on her face, Glory turned around. “It was me, Gram. I stepped out for a little fresh air.” She hated having to tell a lie, but it couldn’t be helped. She didn’t want Gram to worry. “Did you find what you were looking for up there?”

Louise Gardner, wearing a pair of denim pants and an old shirt, appeared from behind a dusty curtain hiding the short hallway that led to the stairs. “No, but I found a lot of other things.”

“Is that good or bad?”

Her grandmother smiled and touched her light-colored graying hair. “Oh, I suspect it’s good. I’d forgotten your grandfather took to storing so much up there. Now that you’ve decided to open up an antiques shop along with your decorating, you won’t have to go looking for nearly as much to fill it with.”

“That is good news. If I don’t have to go out hunting for items to resell, it’ll save me time and money. So where do we start?”

“It’s up to you,” Louise said with a shrug. “We could go through what’s upstairs and weed out what’s good and what would be better thrown away.”

Glory moved to stand by the wood-burning stove that had once been in her grandfather’s workshop. Smiling at her grandmother, she said, “Maybe later.”

Louise moved to stand beside her. “This old thing brings back such memories.”

A stab of remorse cut through Glory for having once suggested they sell it, and she placed her hand on the old stove. “I don’t think we should put a price tag on it after all. Maybe we can make it a focal point of the shop. Give the place an old general store feel, with a fire glowing in it in the winter and chairs nearby for customers to stop in to chat and put their feet up.”