Page 46 of Love’s Silver Bullet

“It was our pleasure, son, so thank you for the invitation.”

Clay paused, the hat stilling in his hands. “Sir, I’d like to offer my services again as far as teaching Sheridan to shoot—”

Finn interrupted him with a palm in the air. “Thank you, Clay, but as I told you before, the case is closed. Blaze will be teaching his sister to shoot.”

Smile compressed, Clay nodded as a knot ducked in his throat. “Well, then, sir, I was hoping you might at least allow me to call on Sheridan for the brief time I’m in Virginia City.”

“Why?” Finn cocked his head, eyes boring into his.

Ruddy color bled into the boy’s face as the hat started whirling once again. “Well, because it gets a mite lonely on the road, sir, and I would like to get to know her better. She’s bright, beautiful, and has a unique quality about her that I find myself”—his Adam’s apple hitched several times in his throat—“drawn to.”

Finn’s smile thinned. That’s called innocence, Mr. Morgan, and you can be drawn all you want, but you’re not going to get any closer. “Well, I can certainly understand your appreciation of Sheridan’s unique qualities, Clay, because I appreciate them, too, which is why her brothers and I take great pains to safeguard them.”

“Sir, I assure you my intentions are completely honorable—”

“And I appreciate that assurance, son, but as Sheridan’s guardian, I’m obliged to see to her welfare to the best of my ability. Unfortunately for you, that ability tells me it wouldn’t be wise to expose my inexperienced and vulnerable eighteen-year-old niece to a handsome and personable young man when both of you will be parting ways very soon.”

“But, sir—”

Finn cocked a brow. “That’s my final word, Mr. Morgan.”

“I see.” Clay slapped his hat on with a tad of temper. “Well, pardon me, sir, but one would think a young woman soon to be nineteen who is going off to college would be old enough to decide for herself.”

Hip cocked, Finn gave a slow nod as he perched hands loosely on his thighs. “One would think that I suppose, Clay, if one were a young man looking toward his own interests rather than that of a young woman’s. But as the guardian of that young woman, not only do I think I know what’s best for her”—Finn pinned him with an unflinching stare—“but I also have the power to insure it. Thank you again for a wonderful evening, and I bid you good night,” he said with a polite doff of his hat, smile compressed as he mounted his phaeton.

And if I have my way—goodbye.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“I can hardly believe summer is half over, and you’ll be gone in six weeks!” Kathy Jean said in a near moan while sipping on her ice cream soda at Lambert’s Confectionary with Sheridan and Sophia.

Gobbling her own ice cream sundae way too quickly—her favorite, hot fudge—Sheridan smiled at the loud, sucking noise Kathy Jean made as she drained her soda, her friend’s eyes as moist as the bottom of her empty glass. “We’re going to miss you so much!” Kathy Jean wailed.

“Si, and based on what you said about the kiss Jake gave you at the beginning of the summer, something tells me we won’t be alone.” Sophia wiggled her dark brows in a jest that belied the sheen in her eyes.

Sheridan winced, the heat pulsing in her face from Sophia’s tease at least countering the brain freeze she always got when she ate her ice cream too quickly. Kneading her temple, she quickly glanced at the other tables close by in front of Mr. Lambert’s store window, hoping no one had overheard Sophia’s remark. “Sophia, shhhh!” she whispered to the best friend who was starting to sound more and more like her sister all the time. Grabbing her napkin, Sheridan quickly fanned her face. “That is our secret and nobody else’s.” She offered a feeble smile. “Well, ours and Aunt Libby’s and Maggie’s, that is.”

Sophia leaned close with a twinkle in her eye. “And Jake’s?”

The napkin flapped wildly in Sheridan’s hand as she tried to cool the heat that always invaded whenever she thought of Jake and his amazing kiss. She ducked close to both of her friends, voice barely a whisper. “Yes, but I don’t want everyone else to know too, you goose, so please refer to him as ‘he who shall remain nameless,’ all right?”

The mischief in Sophia’s black eyes gleamed bright as she locked her lips with a pretend key. “Si. When it comes to ‘he who shall remain nameless,’ my lips are sealed, chica.” Hovering over her ice cream soda, she took a sip before delivering a mischievous smile. “But when it comes to the kisses of other hombres to make ‘he who shall remain nameless’ jealous?”—she winked—“not so much.”

“Sophia!” Kathy Jean rasped as she made a quick sign of the cross while Sheridan commenced fanning, figuring Kathy Jean and she may as well be twins given the matching burn on both of their cheeks.

“And speaking of other hombres,” Sophia said coyly, slowly twirling the straw in her glass, “How was dinner at the Wild West Show?”

Grateful to give her teeth a rest from the cold of bolting her ice cream, Sheridan pounced on the opportunity to tell her friends all about one of the most exciting evenings she’d ever had. Kathy Jean and Sophia appeared to hang onto her every word as she expounded in great detail about the food, the décor, and the thrill of sharing a meal with Buffalo Bill, Annie Oakley, and her husband Frank.

She was near giddy by the time she got to how Jake won the shooting match with Clay, this time her cheeks flushed with excitement rather than from Sophia’s teasing. “Goodness, they were so evenly matched, going head-to-head snuffing out candles with revolvers and shooting corks out of bottles until finally Jake won on the 15th round of shooting coins in the air.”

“Oh my goodness!” Kathy clasped hands to her chest. “I’m so excited Jake won!”

“Me too,” Sophia said, her almond eyes in a curious squint while she homed in on Sheridan with a tilt of her head that could only spell trouble. “But I must admit, chica, I’m more interested to know if Mr. Clay Morgan won something too.”

“Sophia!” Sheridan whispered with another flash of heat, her friend’s wink confirming exactly what her friend meant. The napkin was now officially more of a fan than a cover for Sheridan’s lap. “Sweet mother of mercy, Sophia Lopez, Clay Morgan is just a means to an end, and you know it.”

No matter how attractive that means is!