Page 54 of Love’s Silver Bullet

“But she’s going away to get that education, Finn, in three short weeks, so I don’t understand—”

Clutching her arms, he held her at bay, his grip suddenly taut. “She’s my blood, Libby, so let me handle this, all right?” His whisper sounded almost harsh, the fire in his eyes igniting her own. “I’m her guardian, and I know what’s best for her.”

Her chin lashed up. “Oh, sure you do. Just like you thought you knew what was best for me when we first got married. Well, you were wrong then, Finn, and you’re wrong now.”

“Libby, I’m warning you—this is important to me.” His voice was deadly quiet.

“And to Sheridan and me as well,” she whispered, determined to do everything she could to give Sheridan the freedom she deserved. Her eyes pleaded. “Please, Finn—why can’t we compromise?”

“We did!” he snapped, dropping her arms to pummel his pillow one last time, “on sending Sheridan to Vassar when I wanted her closer to home, remember? You got the last word then, Libby, and by God, I’ll have it now.” As if reining in his temper, he slowly drew in a deep breath, then gently buffed her arms, his voice considerably softer. “Look, Libby, this is my responsibility, and I take it very seriously, so please understand. She’s my niece, darlin’, so I get the final word.”

“But that’s just it, Finn, she’s my niece too—”

His grip tightened. “This. Discussion. Is. Over,” he bit out in a deadly tone that brooked no argument, “so let it go, darlin’.”

“But—”

His hold actually pinched as a spark of once-familiar fire blazed in those hazel eyes that she hadn’t seen in a long, long time. “Not. One. More. Word. Good night, Libby.” Pillow balled in his hands, he turned on his side, his back a brick wall she would never scale.

At least not tonight.

A painful mix of tears and temper pooled in her eyes as she grabbed her own pillow and tossed it to her side of the bed, as far away from Finn McShane as she could possibly get.

Not one more word?

Gladly, she thought with a swipe at her eyes. He wanted the final word? Well, she’d give it to him. Curling in a ball, she made a vow of silence, determined to give Finn McMule exactly what he asked for. Not only tonight, but in the days ahead.

Not one more word.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Hand to her mouth, Sophia called from Kathy Jean’s bedroom window, her whisper way too loud to suit as Sheridan hurried to Kathy Jean’s front gate.

“As if that’s even possible,” Kathy Jean said with a giggle, still in her nightgown after the three spent the night together on this, their last week together. “She’s had six shooting lessons, and he hasn’t even kissed her yet.”

Sheridan spun around at the gate, her cheeks on fire for any number of reasons: Kathy Jean’s comment shouted to the world, her nervousness over seeing Clay again, or even the fact he hadn’t yet kissed her, dragging this whole jealousy plot out so long, she was starting to want him to. “Kathy Jean Rightler, hush!” She huffed out a sigh, feeling guilty enough for her growing attraction to Clay without her friend announcing her failure from the rooftops. “Pretty futile at this point anyway, since I only have a week left to make you know who jealous.”

“Don’t say that, chica—today could be the day.” She waggled her brows. “Chet says Clay likes you very much.”

Sheridan’s smile slid sideways, pretty sure Sophia had made way more headway with Chet since they met than Sheridan had with Clay, given the Wild West’s sharpshooter’s fascination with Sheridan’s best friend. “Well, if it isn’t, it will be the last one, that’s for dead sure.” Her shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh. “Maybe that’s the reason Uncle Finn and my brothers have tried so hard to keep me away from men—they’re not worth the time and pain.”

“Oh, they’re worth it all right, mi amiga mujer,” Sophia said with a low chuckle, “at least according to Lolita, and something tells me you’re about to find out. Adios, chica, and buena suerte.”

Good luck? Mood deflated, Sheridan trudged down the street toward the edge of town, thinking she’d need a whole lot more than good luck to make strides with Jake before she left. She was certain finding out about Clay kissing her would have done the trick. Her mouth sagged along with her shoulders. But not if she couldn’t make it happen. And now, with only a week left, it was almost too late ...

Almost.

She halted midway in crossing the dusty street, barely noticing the buggies and wagons passing by as she blinked. A slow smile wended across her lips when she suddenly realized “almost” carried a thread of possibility, a strand of hope that meant there was still time. And by hit or miss, hug or kiss, she intended to come up with something today to light a fire under Jake Sullivan.

“Good morning, Sheridan,” Clay said as she rounded the tent to approach their usual target-practice area, where he was standing next to one of the prettiest palominos Sheridan had ever seen . “Ready for our final lesson?”

“I am, Mr. Morgan. And who’s this?” She smiled and cooed to the palomino before looking up, head tilted in question while she petted his horse. “And are we going somewhere else for this lesson?”

“We are,” he said with a small bow, dark eyes twinkling as he nodded over his shoulder toward the Sierra Nevada mountains. “I found a pretty lake a mile or two back, so I thought it would be nice to celebrate with a picnic after our lesson, just you, me, and ol’ Silver Bullet here.” He paused, as if her hesitation was of concern. “If that’s all right with you, of course.”

“Uh …” Sheridan swallowed hard.

He took a step forward, arm extended toward the arena. “I can always ask Annie or one of the other ladies to join us if that would make you more comfortable.”