Bingley,” he said. “How nice to see you.”

Apparently, it wasn’t the greeting she’d expected, and for a moment the older woman was too flustered to speak, and then she managed to string a few words together. “Is that you, Rory Douglas?”

“It is, ma’am. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

Mrs. Bingley again could find nothing to say, and instead, she focused her attention on Sadie, giving her a contemptuous glare. “Sadie Mann. I’m shocked. I thought your mother raised you better!”

Rory expected Sadie to wilt. Instead, her jaw firmed, and her dark eyes blazed. “She did,” Sadie answered. “But now that she’s gone, I’m just doing what I want.”

Carol Bingley’s jaw dropped. “Well, I never! Your mother must be turning in her grave.”

“Not that you’d know where that is. You didn’t go to her funeral. And she only worked for you for what, twenty-two years?”

For a moment there was just shocked, uncomfortable silence, and Rory knew he’d better take action before this turned into something truly ugly.

He squeezed Sadie’s waist, pulling her even closer to his hip. “Happy holidays, Mrs. Bingley. Do give my best to Mr. Bingley. And I hope he enjoyed the tickets to the show in Billings.” And then he began walking, dragging Sadie with him, wanting to put as much distance as he could between his volatile redhead and Marietta’s biggest gossip.

Chapter Four

Sadie’s heart was racing and her body was trembling. She didn’t know if she was more upset about Mrs. Bingley’s rudeness, or Rory’s bone-melting kiss.

The problem was, his arm was still around her, and his body was so warm, and yet hard, and yet perfect, and she couldn’t seem to get her brain back, or her strength.

The man could kiss, and that kiss...

So good. So hot. And exactly how she’d imagined Rory would kiss. It made her furious, though. How unfair of him to kiss her now when she’d decided to only pursue solid, dependable, manageable men. And maybe Rory was solid and dependable, but he certainly wasn’t manageable.

“Now that is just playing dirty,” she gritted, pulling away from him after they’d walked a good block. But the moment she pulled away she missed his warmth and the hard, muscular contours of his body. He might need a cane, but he was built like a high-performance machine.

“How so?”

She began walking again, needing to move to somehow escape all the emotions swirling inside of her.

Of course, he fell into step next to her. “You’re such a coward.”

“How so?”

“You won’t talk, you can’t face me, you just want to run.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m in survivor mode.”

“Well, toughen up, darlin’. Life’s hard and you need to be just as strong.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know you’re hurt, angry because you lost your nerve.