Page 6 of For Love of Liberty

“Mrs. Poppy! Yes, I arrived just yesterday,” Libby called as Finn continued his rampage down the wooden walkway, picking up speed, “so I’ll come see you soon, I promise.”

“Good girl,” the old woman returned, her full rosy cheeks a familiar complement to an off-kilter silver topknot bouncing on her head. She waved as she continued on her merry way while a wagon passed with a blinding roll of dust and a cheer for Finn.

Somehow Libby managed a boot to his knee. “Finn McShane, if you don’t put me down this instant …”

“With pleasure,” he said with a growl, mauling the knob of the newspaper office before kicking the door open. The receptionist froze, along with a patron who was apparently placing an ad. “Excuse me, ladies, but I have a message for Mr. Parks—won’t take a moment.”

“What-are-you-doing?” Libby whispered harshly, thrashing all the more at the prospect of making a scene at the place she hoped to work.

Completely ignoring her, he strode down the hall and kicked another door open, instantly paralyzing Milo Parks, who gaped with a pen in his hand. “Inter-view o-ver, Miss O’Shea,” he snapped, dumping her on Milo’s desk without ceremony. He aimed a thick finger, glaring at the man who’d been—until today—his best friend. “And so help me, Parks, if you send this woman down to my office ever again, our friendship is over, got it?” Without another word, he barreled out and slammed the door, rattling both it and the windows of Milo’s office.

Sliding off the front of Milo’s desk as discreetly as possible, Libby bit her lip while she straightened her dress with shaky fingers, throat dry at the prospect of turning around to see the horror on her prospective employer’s face.

A throaty chuckle rumbled while she repinned her hat, and whirling around, her jaw swagged low at the look of utter delight on Milo Park’s face. “Well, I’ll be!” the assistant editor said with a clasp of hands behind his neck, slanting back in his chair with a bona fide grin. Despite Milo’s amber hair to Finn’s deep chestnut and his sky-blue eyes to Finn’s whiskey brown, the two had always seemed like siblings to Libby, twins really, whose carefree attitudes bonded them like brothers. Only Milo had mostly been the nice brother, rarely taunting her except when his mule-headed friend had egged him on. “Haven’t seen our boy that stirred up since you fleeced him in the science fair our senior year, Libs, so good job.”

Her fingers froze on the pin in her hat. “You mean … you’re not mad?”

“Shoot, no,” Milo said with a cross of his legs on a desk scattered with galleys. “Truth be told, he’s had me a mite worried lately with all the hours he’s been clockin’, both for the railroad during the day and then clearing his land at night. Turned into a regular workhorse when he hired on with V&T. Cuttin’ way back on socializing with me or the ladies, which doesn’t set well with me or them, I can tell you that.” He sighed and scratched the back of his neck, eyes narrowed in thought. “It’s almost like he’s lost his fire, you know? So darn worried about that dad-burned land of his and the vein of silver he found, his sparkle has sorta fizzled right out.” A twinkle lit in his eyes as he gave her a wink. “Till you.”

Libby blinked. “I don’t understand. He’s a mule of a bully with a hair-trigger temper, who just kicked me out of his office and dumped me on your desk. How is that a good thing?”

Milo chuckled. “Well actually that ‘mule of a bully’ is one of the most mild-mannered men I know—calm, rational, steady as a rock.” He flashed a grin, the glint in his eye matching the one in his teeth. “Except around you.”

His smile suddenly sobered, transforming him into the professional editor she’d begged for a job mere hours ago. “Which is a good thing because he’s my best friend, Libby, and frankly I’m worried about him. He doesn’t smile as much as he used to and he’s too blasted complacent to suit.” His lips curved into a slow smile. “So I’d like to light a fire under him, and you’re just the stick of dynamite I need because nobody trips his wire like you, Liberty O’Shea, nobody.”

Head in a tilt, she studied him through slatted eyes, almost suspicious that this was some sort of trick. “Does that mean I have the job?”

He grinned. “As long as you write one heck of an editorial that stokes the logs in that boy’s stove and you put that impressive resumé and Vassar degree to good use stirring up circulation for the Enterprise.”

Liberty squealed and circled Milo’s desk to give him a tight hug. “Oh, Milo, thank you sooooo much, and I promise you won’t regret this.”

He gave her an awkward pat on the back while a ruddy shade of red bled up the length of his neck. “Nope, with your spunk and brains, Libs, I don’t think I will, not even a little.” The twinkle was back in his eyes as he assessed her with a pensive cock of his head. “Now our ‘mule of a bully with a hair-trigger temper’?” He grinned as he picked up his pen, pausing to give her a wink. “I’m countin’ on it.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“That was dirty dealin’, Parks,” Finn said in a near hiss after their lady friends had excused themselves to use the necessary at Flo’s Diner. Gaze narrow, he eyed his best friend over the rim of his cup, his temper steaming more than the coffee. Make that former best friend, he thought with a healthy swig that burned all the way down—not unlike Parks sending Liberty O’Shea to his office. A low blow that had singed his mood as black and crisp as Flo’s deep-fried bacon.

Milo only laughed, Finn’s scowl obviously providing no censure whatsoever. “Why?” he said with a sly smile, hoisting his cup in a mock toast. “She applied for the editorial position, and her resumé was impeccable, not to mention she always could write circles around you and me. Besides, you’re always grousing I never give V&T any free publicity, so I thought this trial interview was the perfect chance.” He paused, assessing Finn through laughing eyes that held a hint of a dare. “Unless, of course … you’re still carrying a torch for her …?”

“Oh, your bucket’s full of cow chips!” Finn’s usually mild manner exploded, igniting his temper hotter than that blasted torch he wasn’t carrying for Liberty La-di-da Bell. The dad-burned richest, prettiest, smartest, touchiest female in the entire county. And, unfortunately, the only one who skittered his pulse by just giving him the evil eye, something downright rare in a town where girls usually hung all over him, giving him way more than the “eye.” His mouth went flat. The only “hanging” Liberty wanted to do was him from a tree, the higher the better. Problem was, all she’d ever tempted him to do was … touch her, hold her, tell her she drove him plum crazy with those spitfire eyes and sassy mouth. Not to mention that keen mind and wildfire passion for life he so ached to channel.

Right into loving him.

Which is exactly why he spent every moment in school harassing the daylights out of her. He was downright vexed how she made him feel inside. Angry that he wanted her. Flat-out crazy she didn’t want him back. And out and out irate that she made every other girl seem like he was settling for second best.

“Come on, Finn, you were going to run into her sooner or later, right?” Milo’s grin couldn’t mask the concern in his eyes. “I just hurried the process along.”

Wrong. Liberty O’Shea was the last person he wanted to run into. It was bad enough she still haunted the deep, dark recesses of his soul, taunting him with a longing as cruel as the taunts he used to hurl at her. Sure, he’d known he’d run into her eventually, but he’d wanted to be prepared when he did, not broadsided by an older, more sophisticated version, browsing his office as pretty as you please.

“Besides,” Milo continued with a lazy sip of his coffee, “you’ve been a regular drudge lately, working day and night, so I thought you could use a little excitement.”

One side of Finn’s lip hooked. “Yeah, well, an agitated bottle of nitroglycerin would have been kinder.” Huffing out a sigh, he set his coffee down to knead both temples with the pads of his fingers. “She all but came out and called me a murderer, actually accusing me of starving women and babies.”

“What?” Milo’s mouth fell open in a smile of disbelief.

“Yep.” Finn hunched over the table, forearms flat as he took another slow sip of his coffee. “Seems my prior connection to Central Pacific has her convinced that V&T not only plans to underpay the Chinese, but blow them up in the process and starve their families to boot.”

Milo’s deep laughter echoed through the chintz-curtained café where he and Milo often took lunch, earning curious glances from the patrons dining around them. “You’re joshing me,” he said, jaw sagging so low, it looked ready to pop its hinges despite the grin on his face. “She’s always been a plucky, little thing, fighting for every lost cause under the sun. I just figured she’d outgrow that, but I guess not.”