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“Go on. Anyone who follows a stranger home should be prepared for anything but I’m not going to attack you.” No matter how tempting she might be. “Leave your clothes on the floor. I’ll hang them in front of the fire after we eat. We’ll eat by the fire.”
A few minutes later, the woman sat in the recliner again. This time she had the quilt his grandmother had made around her shoulders. That seemed appropriate since his grandmother would’ve been proud of his actions. He would have liked to have slammed the door in the woman’s face and been left alone. He handed her a bowl of steaming stew.
Brandon carried a chair from the table with one arm and thumped it down beside her. He returned to the kitchen for two glasses of water, setting them on the table next to his recliner. Getting his bowl of food, he settled in the chair. They ate in silence. Finished, they placed their bowls on the table along with the glasses.
Twisting in the chair to face her, Brandon pinned her with a look. “Now you are warm and have eaten, tell me who you are and why you followed me.”
“I’m Laurel Marsh.” Her look didn’t waver. That impressed him. “I’m just passing through for the night on my way to my cousin’s house for Christmas.” She looked around. “You don’t have any Christmas decorations. This would really be a fun place to decorate.”
Her décor comment gave him whiplash. What did that have to do with her being here? He chose to ignore her statement and stick to the point. “I don’t mean in Cherry Creek,” he pointed to the floor, “I mean here in my cabin.”
She looked at him a moment as if formulating her answer. “Because I’m looking for B. Wheeler.”
Brandon’s worst fear had come true. His jaw tightened. His two fingers that were left tensed at his side out of her sight. All this time, he’d stayed hidden and now the outside world had come calling. He flinched. She suspected who he was. How could she possibly know from their brief encounter in the middle of the street?
“Thinking I was some guy you clearly don’t know, you thought it worth taking the chance that I’m not an ax murderer. Did you think about getting lost in the woods or freezing to death? He must be an important fellow.”
“Well, it does sound kind of bad when you put it that way.” She gave him a sheepish look. “Generally, I’m more level-headed.”
“That’s reassuring.” Oddly he liked her honesty. “What do you need this B. Wheeler for?”
“I’m an art agent from Atlanta. I saw a piece of his work in the Inn. I wondered if this is where he disappeared to. I read somewhere he liked to spend time with his grandparents in Tennessee when he was a child. I wanted to see if he was still working. His sculptures are so beautiful, touching.”
Just his luck. Who would’ve thought of woman passing through a small little town in the mountains of Tennessee would recognize a piece of his artwork?
There were a number of his earlier works around town. They were from his starving artist period. His grandparents helped him by buying his work as gifts. It wasn’t like he could go around collecting them when he returned to Cherry Creek.
He put his right hand into his pocket and picked up their bowls. When he bobbled them, she reached to help. Her fingertips brushed his. That slight touch clung to him. Being around Laurel had shaken awake his libido. Emily had dropped him like a hot potato after the accident. Since then, he’d stayed to himself, away from the art world, people in general, and female attention.
“You are B. Wheeler, aren’t you?” A note of excitement filled her voice as she stood, the quilt dropping to the chair as she picked up their glasses and brought them to the kitchen.
Brandon placed the bowls in the metal tub that served as his sink. “Yes, I’m Brandon Wheeler.”
“I would’ve never recognized you behind that beard.”
“Have we met before?” He studied her a moment.
“No, but I’ve seen your picture.” She came to stand close to him. “Before you disappeared.”
He flinched.
“Why did you?” she all but whispered.
“Do what?”
“Stop showing your work.”
Because he didn’t have anything to show. Hadn’t for almost two years. “Because I haven’t done anything new.”
Her eyes widened with disbelief. “Nothing? You have such talent. I was hoping you would agree to let me represent you. I heard you had parted with your agent.”
“More like he parted with me. If you don’t work, then you have nothing to sell.” He moved back to the fire.
She followed. “You could start working again. I would love to represent you.”
He turned. “Did you hear me say I’m not doing that anymore. You wasted your time tromping after me.”
“What can I do to make you change your mind?”
