He resisted the urge to rearrange the display, turned, and spotted her. Thick, shoulder-length, light-brown hair, perfectly brushed. Flawless complexion. Slender but well-toned body. Large eyes behind oversized glasses. The glasses put him off slightly, but they didn’t seem to be overly thick. She looked like a cross between Audrey Hepburn and Demi Moore.

“Hello there. I’m Bram White,” he blurted.

He knew she was a guest, she’d soon be heading up to the ranch, and she was in a financial stratosphere out of his reach. The cost of staying at the Mule Shoe was almost a thousand dollars a night. But for the first time in a very long time, he wanted to get to know a woman. This woman.

*  *  *

The loud clang of the cowbell over the door took everyone’s attention away from my checkbook. A young man in his early twenties entered wheeling a handcart of crated sodas. “Hi, all, your friendly neighborhood Coke dealer is here.” He grinned at his wit, but his smile faded when he looked around. “Someone die?”

“Not now, Liam,” Sam said without looking at him.

The young man wheeled his load to the old cooler and began stocking the unit.

The cowbell rang again and a lanky man in his late thirties strolled into the store. His worn jeans, battered cowboy boots, freshly pressed blue-plaid shirt, and Stetson hat reminded me of a young Sam Elliott. He stopped as soon as he entered and looked from face to face. His gaze finally arrived at me. Nodding slightly, he touched the brim of his hat. “Ma’am. Time to leave for the Mule Shoe.” Underneath his bushy mustache, he seemed to be smiling.

“Ran into a bit of a problem here, Wyatt,” Bram said to the wrangler.

“That so?” Wyatt waited.

Everyone spoke at once. “I think you should—”

“This is just a—”

“You’ve come to the wrong—”

Bram raised his hands, then glanced at my tightly clutched checkbook and pen. “This may take some sorting out. Wyatt, why don’t you take the other guests and their luggage to the ranch. I’ll see to it Miss Graham gets there before dinner.”

Wyatt raised his eyebrows, opened his mouth as if to say something, then touched his brim again and left.

Bram stepped over to the counter. “Sam, seems you have a good solution for your dog problem. Why don’t you settle Shadow Woman’s account and let her take them? I don’t particularly like shooting innocent pets, with or without a court order.”

Sam jabbed his finger at the officer. “Yeah, but I got that court order. I’m within my rights—”

“No one’s saying you don’t have the authority,” Bram said. “But if the press gets hold of this, well, you know folks won’t be breaking their legs to shop at your store.”

Sam scratched his jaw and glanced around.