Page 17 of For Love of Liberty

The very thought bucked like a thorn-saddled bull, and with a rush of icy mountain water surging through his veins, he dropped her to the floor like he’d been bit by a rattler. She teetered precariously—along with his heart—eyes glazed and mouth still open in shock. Mustering all the calm he owned—which was a mite low at the moment—he yanked his hat down low and reached for the knob. She bolted away like he was a grizzly fresh up from a nap, and Finn had to stifle a chuckle, tossing her a wink as he opened the door. “Told you.”

He startled at the sight of Miss Willoughby hurrying down the hall, papers fluttering in her hand while heat seared his collar. “Oh, Finn, I truly apologize for the delay, but the mayor was in one of his chattier moods.” Her pace slowed as her eyes flicked from his sheepish grin to Liberty’s pale face, a crimp of concern creasing her brow. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am, we’re all done here and on our way home.”

Relief washed over the schoolteacher’s face as she unleashed a grateful sigh. “Oh, good! I was so worried, but it sounds like you two made some good progress.”

Tipping his hat, he couldn’t resist a smirk over his shoulder, deflecting the wild beat of his pulse with a leisurely wink. “Yes, ma’am, I believe we did.”

CHAPTER TEN

“If it takes every breath in my body, he is not going to win!” Liberty glared across the Poppys’ rolling meadow where Finn McShane wielded a hammer on behalf of the ladies of The Brass Rail Saloon. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the girls fawn all over him and Milo while the two men built the saloon façade they volunteered to make for the Brass Rail’s booth. Their laughter echoed in the valley, making Libby wish she had whacked that insufferable rogue silly the moment he’d kissed her in City Hall.

Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she slapped red paint on the side of her schoolhouse booth with way too much force. And she would have whacked him, too, if he hadn’t shocked the everliving sense out of her. Making her too stunned to move. Too breathless to speak.

Too attracted to stop.

The vile memory accosted her all over again, causing her pulse to sprint and her cheeks to burn. She smacked the side of the booth Kitty’s brother had built for them, splattering red paint all over her work dress. “Honestly, I don’t know what the women of this town see in him—he’s nothing but a cocky womanizer.”

Kitty’s low chuckle did nothing for the heat in Libby’s face. “Come on, Libs, if you can’t see what the women in this town see in Griffin McShane, I suggest you have Dr. Thompson fit you for spectacles.” She paused on the other side of the booth with a red-soaked paintbrush in hand, chest expanding with an appreciative sigh. “Rumor has it that Finn’s kisses can melt a girl into a puddle.” She shot Libby a wink. “At least according to Jo Beth.”

Okay, Libby was pretty sure her face now matched the side of her booth. She commenced to fanning herself with her paintbrush, flicking paint specks all over the ground and herself. “That’s because he’s probably kissed every female in the blessed county,” she muttered, wishing she could blame her shallow breathing on the muggy day.

“Welllll … he sure hasn’t kissed me,” Kitty said with a cagey smile, her gaze darting to the back of the booth where Martha was just finishing up with white trim. “How ’bout you, Martha? Has Finn ever kissed you?”

Libby was grateful when her notoriously shy friend turned the exact shade of the booth, deflecting some of the warmth Libby felt in her own face. “Merciful heavens no!” Her freckles suddenly bleached near white as the paint on her brush. “Makes me plumb dizzy just thinking about it.”

Kitty homed in on Libby, the twinkle in her friend’s eyes assuring her she was up to no good. “So … what about you, Libs?” She waggled her brows. “Has Finn ever kissed you?”

Heatstroke claimed her on the spot, much as Finn had two weeks before, scorching her body—and her memories—all over again.

“I knew it!” Kitty brandished her brush like a threat, the gleam in her eyes not boding well for the awful secret Libby worked so hard to hide. “That’s why you begged Martha and me to go to the last two planning meetings with you, isn’t it? And that’s why you’ve been as skittish as a doe whenever the man even looks your way. I swear you turn seven shades of red if he teases you instead of cutting him down to size like you used to in school.”

Kitty set her brush across the bucket of paint sitting on the ground and faced Libby head-on, hands on her hips. “Liberty O’Shea, I have been your best friend since you moved to Virginia City, and you have never kept a secret from me before, so I want to know right now …” She dipped her head to peer into Liberty’s downcast eyes, obviously softening her tone when she saw a glaze of tears. “Did Finn McShane kiss you?”

Libby’s lashes flickered closed, the recurring thought of Finn’s lips on hers branding her for life.

“Oh my stars, he did, didn’t he!”

Libby’s lids slowly lifted to face the music, staring at Kitty as if she were in a daze while Martha scrambled over to join them, the whites of her eyes spanning wider than Kitty’s.

“Liberty O’Shea!” Kitty demanded with a stamp of her foot, “why didn’t you tell us that Finn McShane kissed you?”

Kitty’s volume jolted Liberty out of her trance, heart slamming against her ribs as her gaze darted around to see if anybody had heard. “Kitty Faye Jones, hush!” Liberty rasped, cheeks flaming all the more when she caught Finn glancing their way. “Sweet mother of pearl, why don’t you just announce it from the bandstand?”

Huffing out a noisy blast of air, Kitty dragged Liberty behind their booth and pinned her with two paint-stained hands as she gave her a little shake. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!” she whispered loudly, clearly peeved to have been denied the juiciest morsel of news in their young lives. “When on earth did it happen and for heaven’s sake, how? And most importantly …” Kitty’s lips squirmed into a wicked smile. “How was it?”

Liberty was certain the blood in her cheeks had crawled clear up to her bangs, a perfect match for her auburn hair. She put a hand to her eyes, still embarrassed over the whole sordid scene.

The same sordid scene she dreamed about every single night.

“It happened at the second planning meeting a few weeks ago,” she whispered, the very memory even making her hands sweat. “When Miss Willoughby ran late and Finn was being a stubborn mule about every little thing.”

“And we both know he was the only one, right?” Kitty and Martha giggled in unison, prompting Liberty to lift her hand from her eyes and give them a glare.

Ignoring Kitty’s comment, she continued on. “The next thing I know, he jumps up and charges to the door like one of Mr. Wilson’s prize bulls, and I had to fight fire with fire, didn’t I? So I blocked the door, refusing to let him leave till we finished the meeting.”

“Of course you did,” Kitty said with a grin, “until he kissed the fire right out of you, suddenly making you meek as a lamb whenever he’s around.”