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She sniffed at the bar of soap, smiled, then held it up for him to take a whiff.
“It’s you,” he said, giving her a soft smile. “The scent that’s always clinging to your skin.” He thought about it a moment, then said, “Lilac.”
“Good nose,” she told him, and started walking again.
“Some things a man’s not likely to forget.” He bent his head to hers, lowered his voice and whispered, “Like the scent of the woman he’s inside of. That kind of thing is imprinted onto your memory.”
She quivered from head to toe and, judging by his smile, he approved of her reaction. Her body was tingling, her brain was just a little fuzzed out and breathing seemed like such a chore. When she looked into his eyes and saw the heat there, Lacy felt her heart take another tumble, and this time she didn’t try to deny it. To stop it.
When it came to Sam, there was no stopping how her body, her soul, reacted. Her brain was something else, though. She could still give herself a poke and remind herself of the danger of taking another plunge with Sam Wyatt. And yet, despite the danger, she knew there was nothing else she’d rather do. Which meant she was in very big trouble.
Then he straightened, scanned the crowd surrounding them and muttered, “I feel sort of outnumbered around here. Can’t be more than a handful of men in the whole building.”
“Gonna leave?” she asked, shooting him a quick look.
He met her gaze squarely. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And suddenly, she knew he was talking about more than just the craft fair.
* * *
Sam stayed with her for another hour as they cruised through a craft fair that normally he wouldn’t have been caught dead in. But being with Lacy on neutral ground made up for the fact that he felt a little out of place in what was generally considered female territory.
But while they walked and Lacy shopped, his mind turned over ideas. He carried her purchases in a cloth bag she’d brought with her for that purpose, and together they stepped out of the train station. Sam paused to look up, to the end of Historic Twenty-Fifth and beyond to the snow-covered mountain range in the distance. Trees were budding, the air was warmer and the sun shone down, as if designed to highlight the place in a golden glow.
“I missed this,” he said, more to himself than Lacy. “I don’t think I even knew how much I missed it until I was home again.” The wind kicked up as if reminding everyone that spring was around the corner but winter hadn’t really left just yet.
“Are you?” she asked, and Sam turned his head to look down at her. That long, silky braid of blond hair fell across one shoulder and loosened tendrils flew around her face, catching on her eyelashes as she watched him. “Are you home?”
Reaching out, Sam gently stroked the hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. He’d wondered this himself for days. He hadn’t been able to give his father a direct answer because he was still too torn. Leave? Walk away from the memories this mountain held and spend the rest of his life running from his own past? Or stand and face it all, reclaim the life—and the woman—he’d left behind?
And wasn’t it just perfect now to realize that the woman he wanted owned the property he wanted? If he tried romancing her now, she’d never believe he wanted her for herself. Seemed as though fate was really enjoying itself at his expense.
He’d have to find a way around it, Sam told himself. Because he was done trying to hide from the past. It was time to set it all right. Starting now.
“Yeah, Lacy. I’m home. For good this time.”
Eight
“I want to open a gift shop,” Sam said, and watched as surprise had Lacy goggling at him. He’d been doing a lot of thinking since the two of them had walked through the arts-and-crafts fair the day before. Though he hadn’t been tempted into buying anything himself, Sam was astute enough to realize that other people were. He figured that tourists would be just as anxious to shop for items made by local artisans.
He smiled at Lacy’s confusion, then said, “Yeah, I know. Not exactly what you’d expect me to say. But I can see possibilities in everything.”
“Is that right?”
“You bet.” He eased down to sit on the corner of the desk in her office. “I already talked to you about using the photos you have of the lodge...”
“Yes?”
He grinned at her, enjoying having knocked her a little off balance, and said, “It struck me when we were at that craft and art fair. There’s a hell of a lot of talented people in the area.”
