Debra Clopton - Her Baby Dreams

Ashby’s pulse skipped. This wasn’t a personal observation, it was just Dan. He’d been at the candy store and he had probably spent thirty minutes flirting with all the ladies who worked there. It was a usual stop for him, but he didn’t have her fooled—no one ate that much candy.

“Good morning,” she said, her hands tightening on the broom. Her resistance was irrational today and she knew it. The man had given her a ride home when, frankly, no one else had come near her—with good reason! She’d almost cried when she’d seen herself in her bathroom mirror last night. “I hope your truck is okay today.” She had awakened feeling totally embarrassed about the entire evening before.

“It’s good. Told you it would be.” He leaned forward and inhaled deeply. “You smell much better today.”

Ashby felt her cheeks warm. From embarrassment, plain and simple.

He grinned and wiggled the bag in front of her. “Would you like a piece of candy?”

Okay, so maybe he really did have a sweet tooth, and he wasn’t just over there flirting. The ladies from the women’s shelter, who ran the store, did make some of the best confections she’d ever tasted. And it wasn’t her business, anyway, what this man did and didn’t do.

“No, thank you,” she managed to reply. “I wanted to thank you once more for your help last night.” She resumed sweeping, hoping he would pass on by.

He nibbled a chocolate peanut cluster and continued to study her. “Got any dates lined up yet?”

“No,” she snapped. Humiliation spurred her to sweep faster. A moment passed, and then he bent his knees and playfully peeked up at her, with irritatingly happy eyes.

“You’re mad about last night, aren’t you?”

Ashby scowled at him and kept working.

“C’mon, Ash. You don’t have anything to be ashamed about. You gave it your best shot and you proved me wrong. And you clean up nice—did I already say that?”

Knowing that he actually knew why she’d scrambled for the pig was the problem. She couldn’t tell if the burn she felt was from sunshine or embarrassment.

Well, he could just go away. Nothing would suit her more. As a matter of fact, all the rotten men of Mule Hollow could keep their distance. She didn’t need any of them. For the moment, she was so upset that sounded exactly right. Gave her some semblance of satisfaction.

And still Dan lingered.

“I’m on my way over to Sam’s to grab a cup of coffee and catch up on the morning news. Join me? We can have an early lunch.”

Did the man never give up? “I’m working.” She inhaled slowly, calmly. “But thank you, anyway,” she added, looking up at him as she struggled to hang on to her manners. She was five-eight—five-eleven in the three-inch heels she wore—and still she had to look up at him. Her lips curved in a tight smile of dismissal.

To her dismay, he leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his booted feet. His spurs sang, drawing her gaze. It was apparent that even though it was ten in the morning, Dan had already been working. There was a fine layer of dust covering the lower edges of his sun-faded jeans, and traces of red mud on his boots. The man might move with a slow grace that made him seem lazy, but Ashby knew he was a hard worker, splitting his time between his horseshoeing business, his cattle-buying operation and running his own herd. That was the reason he could eat all that candy and not have it show up on his waist.

“Ash, didn’t your mamma teach you it’s not nice to stare?” he drawled.

“I wasn’t staring. Your spurs distracted me.” Amazing, just amazing, how easy it was to let her guard slip around him. And he knew it, too. Her eyes narrowed as she met his smug expression head-on.

Not affected in the least by her ire, he nodded toward the interior of her store. “I couldn’t help noticing that you don’t have any customers, Miss Templeton,” he teased. “If a man didn’t know any better, he’d think you didn’t want to be seen with him. It’s just lunch, Ash. Or coffee. Take your pick. I’m easy.”

“No, thank you,” she said, fighting to remain aloof. She’d been doing so for a year now and the man’s persistence was amazing. She was probably the only woman on the planet who had ever turned him down—thus she understood she represented a challenge. He might even feel sorry for her. That stung. She held his gaze, refusing to give in to the dark emotions.

He bit into the peanut cluster and mimicked her aloof expression. “Sure you don’t want one of these? You know, the ladies next door do know how to make chocolate.”

Ashby shook her head, while her mouth watered.

For the candy.

“Don’t tell me you’re on a diet.” He regarded her skeptically.

“That, cowboy, wouldn’t be any of your business.”

He chuckled and his eyes sparked. “That’s not my fault. It’s not like I haven’t been trying to get to know you better.”

And that was all the reminder she needed to get her head on straight. “That, in a nutshell, is why I’d never go out with you. You are incorrigible, Mr. Dawson.”

He beamed! “Well, thank ya, darlin’. I was wondering when you were going to notice.”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” she said dryly. “You try to ‘get to know’ every woman within driving distance.”

“Oh, now you’re wounding me.” He covered his heart with the bag of candy.

She’d heard him make that statement many times and end it with his hand over his heart. Personally, Ashby felt it was a bit clichéd. Still, it made her own heart skip a beat. “We both know that’s impossible,” she snapped.

He startled her when he pushed away from the building to step close to her. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do, Ash.”

Unnerved by his proximity, she reached for the door. “I’ll take your word for it. Enjoy your coffee.”

He reached for the door, too, and his hand covered hers. Their eyes locked and held as every fiber of her being sizzled to life. She couldn’t move, and she hated herself for it.

He tugged on the handle, his smile blooming. “Don’t look so shocked, Ash. My mom taught me to open doors for ladies.”

When she noticed the twinkle in his eyes was verging on mirth, her good sense started making a comeback. This man knew the effect he had on her. He knew the effect he had on all women.

She yanked her hand back. Anger flashed through her that she’d reacted in such a pedestrian manner. “Thank you, but I could have done it myself.” She started to step past him. His hand on her arm stopped her.

“Like I said before, you need to loosen up, Ash.” His voice softened. “Is that why you’re afraid of me?”

Afraid? She lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid of you. You are just not what I’m looking for in a man.”

His eyes said he didn’t believe her. The way her pulse was going haywire, she wasn’t so sure she believed herself. But she knew what was good for her and what wasn’t.

“Ash, I think we both know you’re not being honest. Go out with me.” His voice grew husky. “Or at least have lunch with me. What could it hurt?”

Ashby’s resolve faltered. She stiffened her back and squared her jaw. “My name is Ashby and I’m not interested in having lunch with a playboy.” It sounded ugly, but it was as much for her own ears as for his.

His jaw tensed, but surprisingly he said nothing as she strode past him across the threshold, all too aware that he was watching her. All too mad at herself for losing control. The door closed with a refined click, as if to chide her.

The man took nothing seriously.

And she would do well to remember that bit of important information. She was looking for a husband. God’s man for her. Dan Dawson…