When Rusty had helped her down from the buckboard, Heather negotiated the slippery planks with Janna in her arms and hurried inside the store, grateful for the warmth of the woodstove in the far corner.

“Don’t tell me—you’re Heather,” the brown-haired woman behind the counter said affably.

Heather returned her smile. “How did you know?”

“You’re the talk of Greenbriar, that’s how. And I see rumor didn’t exaggerate in the slightest. You’re every bit as beautiful as I heard tell. But honestly, you’re no giant like one old cat claimed. ‘A tall, decidedly elegant figure’ is how I would put it.” Before Heather could become uncomfortable, the woman grinned. “I’m Sarah Baxter, by the way. My husband Harvey and I own the store. I hope you’ll forgive me for not paying you a visit first thing, but the weather was so bad, and the minute it let up, the store was swamped…”

“Of course,” Heather replied politely.

“I just know we’ll be friends. Caitlin has spoken so highly of you. Don’t be upset, though, if the other ladies of Greenbriar don’t welcome you with open arms. You’re sure to be a target of envy.”

“Envy?”

“For snaring Sloan.” Sarah’s brown eyes filled with wry laughter. “You must realize women find him attractive—a handsome widower with a cattle empire the size of the Bar M. And with that dangerous air about him … Well, he’s a mite hard to resist.”

Heather understood quite well what Sarah meant. She’d always been keenly aware how vulnerable she was to Sloan’s potent masculinity, and that aura of brooding sensuality of his only increased his appeal.

“His first wife wasn’t decently buried in her grave,” Sarah explained, “when the local gals started hounding him again. I fear it’s always been that way,” she added wistfully. “The McCord boys were a hell-raising pair when they were younger. Jake was the charmer, but Sloan … well, Sloan was the real heartbreaker. Half the women around here were in love with him, but he paid them no mind. Wanted nothing to do with them. And then he up and married Sleeping Doe. Shocked the entire community, I can tell you. And now he’s gone and done it again—disappointed all the belles by taking another stranger for a wife.”

Heather repressed a pained smile. It struck her as ironic to be envied by her female neighbors for capturing the elusive Sloan McCord. Doubtless they would be surprised to learn she and Sloan had a marriage in name only.

“I don’t know that I envy you,” Sarah added thoughtfully. “Sloan McCord is a hardheaded maverick if there ever was one. Being his wife can’t be easy. You have a real job on your hands, I’m certain.”

Heather’s silence was eloquent.