Tamera Alexander - [Timber Ridge Reflections 01] by From a Distance

Mr. Mullins.”
    “No rush—whenever is fine. If I see him first, I’ll let him know they’re here.” He held up the bottle. “I’ll go get the rest of these for you.”
    Mullins retreated, and Elizabeth stole a furtive glance beside her. Ranslett was watching her directly now, innocent looking as could be. Debating for only a split second, she stooped low enough to peer back at him in the mirror. “See anything interesting a moment ago?”
    Expecting a sheepish look, she didn’t get it.
    A rogue’s smile tipped his mouth. “When a woman wears a bow the size of Texas on her backside, she ought not be surprised if it draws a stare or two. You said we were supposed to be blunt. Right, ma’am?”
    Elizabeth clenched her teeth to keep from laughing, but she couldn’t prevent a smile. “Most certainly. That’s exactly what I said.”
    His gaze swept her dress. “Just don’t wear that thing when we go hunting. Bright colors don’t blend in, and they tend to scare off the prey.”
    So he did intend to keep his promise about taking her hunting. That was good news. “And I suppose not shaving for days on end and wearing buckskin like a native attracts them?”
    A dimple appeared in his stubbled right cheek. “I don’t know that I’d recommend that for you, but it seems to work for me fine enough.”
    It sure did, but she wasn’t about to agree. “Exactly when are you planning to take me on this hunting trip, Ranslett?”
    His brows shot up. “First time I’ve had a woman call me by my surname. Is that part of this . . . progress you were telling me about yesterday?”
    “Are you evading my question?”
    “No, ma’am. How about tomorrow?”
    She sobered, excited at the prospect. “You’re serious?”
    His smile deepened. “I am. I’ve got somewhere to go first thing in the morning, but I can take you up to—”
    “Our agreement was to a full day of hunting, Mr. Ranslett. Not an afternoon.” She already planned on using the trip as the basis for a column, recounting the experience for the Chronicle readers, spicing it up some if she needed to so that it would appeal to game hunters.
    He did that sideways thing with his mouth again. “Are you always this demanding, Miss Westbrook?”
    “Yes, I am.”
    He exhaled. “Best to know at the outset, I guess.”
    She ignored the gleam in his eyes. “What time do we leave?”
    “How about I meet you at the butcher’s shop at nine? It’s right across from your boardinghouse.”
    “And just how did you know where I am staying?”
    “I told you I wouldn’t have any problem finding you.” With a nod, he indicated her dress. “You don’t exactly mix in with the rest of the folks around here.”
    Mrs. Mullins laid his bill on the counter. He read it, put down his money, then hefted the box of sundry items, a box of gumballs balanced on top. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
    “And here are your items, Miss Westbrook.” Ben Mullins made the necessary change from the bills she handed him. “Sure is an interesting thing you do, ma’am.”
    “Thank you, I find it intriguing. It’s a hobby I’ve studied for several years.”
    “Lyda and I would like to have you over for dinner this Sunday, if you’re available, to hear more about it, and to get to know you better. You might consider setting your camera up some Saturday in the store here too. I know people in town would pay to have their pictures taken, if that wouldn’t be something you’re opposed to.”
    She was taken aback by his kindness and interested in his offer. “I’d appreciate both of those opportunities, Mr. Mullins. Thank you very much. Until Sunday, then . . .” She moved to lift her box, but Ranslett beat her to it. She caught up with him halfway down the aisle. “I’m quite capable of carrying that myself, you know.”
    He stopped and turned. “Did you hear me say you weren’t?”
    So soft was his voice, so neutral his expression, she knew he’d meant nothing by the gesture.