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  “Well, what did you expect when you married that city girl, Bill? Hey, Miss Stella, you ever made a venison roast? By the way, my name is Carl.”

  “Yes, I have. Need a refill on that tea? Was it sweet or not?” She asked Rance.

  “Sweet.” Rance held up his glass and watched her pour. She could have been an English princess serving tea in a castle with all that gorgeous blond hair and those haunting big, blue eyes beneath heavy dark lashes that didn’t go with her hair. But Rance wasn’t about to fall for a tall blond again. Not ever. Even if he ever did find a dark haired little angel, he would check himself into a psyche ward before he thought about the commitment word. Maybe when he was eighty or ninety and had forgotten the pain of the first marriage he’d let someone talk him into the “C” word. He’d learned his lesson and though he’d been called lots of names in his lifetime, nobody had ever said Rance was stupid.

  He reached up to take the glass of tea from her and their fingertips brushed ever so slightly. The sparks dancing around could have rivaled the Fourth of July fireworks show at the Sulphur High School football stadium. Stella had never experienced anything like it from a mere touch. It terrified her: she thought she’d buried anything remotely like desire several months before in Hollywood, California.

  Carl rubbed his chin in deep thought. “Miss Stella, you reckon if we brought a couple of haunches of deer in here before we take the meat down to the locker you might fix it for us for supper tomorrow night?”

  “I suppose so. What do you do with it if you don’t take it home to eat?” She asked.

  “Oh, we give it to that charity to feed the hungry folks,” Bill said. “We take it to a locker plant and they process it and give it to the needy.”

  “That’s pretty decent of you. Yes, I’ll make you venison. How many did you get today?”

  “I got a big buck. Nice rack. I’m having it mounted for the den.”

  That was as much or more than Stella wanted to know. Other than a few children, Jasper included, she seldom encouraged her guests to tell her their personal stories. But somehow before they left she knew too much every time.

  “Well, bring a couple of big roasts in here after supper. I guess you’ve got the deer hog dressed and ready to go to the locker in the morning?”

  “Yep, hanging out in the smoke house.” Rance nodded. “Granny always said that’s where to put it. Have things changed?”

  “No, nothing has changed. That’s the place to put the kill or scale the fish in the spring. You’re responsible to keep it clean, just like when she was running the business.” Stella removed dishes as they finished and shed them to the kitchen on her cart.

  Rance helped carry the last of the plates that wouldn’t fit on the cart. “What happened to Granny Brannon? I’ve been coming here to hunt since I was sixteen. My dad brought me the first time. Last year we lost Dad just before hunting season and I just couldn’t make myself go without him.”

  “Granny had cancer,” Stella said.

  “You buy the place?”

  “No, she left it to me, not that it’s any of your business,” Stella said. “Since you’re in here, take that stack of clean plates to the table and I’ll bring out the pecan pies and German chocolate cake.”

  The fellow at the end of the table rubbed his chubby little hands together. “I told you. I knew it. Chocolate. German chocolate with nuts and coconut. I’m going to be miserable and love every minute of it.”

  Stella shook her head in amazement. Hunters. Fishermen. Families. Their faces changed and their gender, but their appetite for good food never did. She cut a huge wedge of triple layered cake and gently laid it on a plate. “With or without ice cream?”

  “With and a piece of pecan pie, too.” His eyes sparkled.

  One of the hunters opted for pecan pie. “Tommy would love this. That’s my ten year old son and he thinks pecan pie is the ‘bestest thing in the whole world.’ Want to see his picture? When he’s twelve, he’s coming with us.” With the expertise of a proud father he deftly removed his wallet from his pocket and flipped it open to show Stella the picture of a tow headed kid in a baseball uniform.

  “Only child?” She asked.

  Rance answered for him. “Yep. Tommy is all boy. It takes a dozen people to keep up with him.”

  Bill shoved his wallet into her hands. “Hey, looky here at my kids. I got a set of twins that could scale a glass door on a rainy day.”

  “Good looking girls.” Stella looked and handed it back. “They can’t be that ornery, though. They look like angels.”

  Rance chuckled and she shot him a dirty look. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, lady. He’s the one who said they were devils in disguise,” he said, pointing to Bill.

  “That’s right. And my wife is expecting another one. Thank goodness we’ve got a good nanny.” Bill put his wallet away, but the dam had already broken and everyone had out a picture for her to see. So, they were all married men with kids who liked cake or were angels with wives at home who didn’t cook venison.

  When she’d seen them all she looked up at Rance, fully expecting him to have his pictures out. Would his children have that jet black hair and dark eyes or maybe they’d take after their mother who was—what?

  “End of the line of proud daddies,” he blushed slightly.

  “Cake, pie or both?” She asked instead of pursuing the discussion with him.

  Bill hooted and Carl put his hand over his full mouth. “You sure wouldn’t want to show off your pictures. Miss Stella wouldn’t be a bit interested in those two babies of yours. They’re so spoiled it’s pitiful.”

  Rance’s neck rapidly turned scarlet. “Hush, Carl. At least my babies don’t try to scale a glass wall on a rainy day. Now let’s take a flashlight out to the smoke house and carve out a couple of roasts for Stella to put in some kind of magic sauce. You must use your Granny’s dumpling recipe because these are just like I remember. I’ll have pecan pie.”

  She deliberately touched his hand when she served the pie and the jolt almost glued her to the floor again. It hadn’t been a freak accident after all. It wasn’t fair: he was married. To have those kind of feelings awakened anew, and with a married man. Some days it just didn’t pay to get out of bed.

  Rance swallowed hard, amazed that his voice sounded almost normal. “Bet you can make a venison roast just like Granny did, too.”

  After two shocks of nothing more than pure desire shooting through his veins, he figured he’d sound like a prepubescent kid with a high squeaky voice. Stella was one fine looking, well-put-together woman, but he’d vowed long ago never to get tangled up with another tall blond, not even if she was an angel straight from heaven with white wings and an untarnished halo. Rance Harper did not go back on his vows. Not for anything or anyone. Not even for his heart.

  “I’ll try to make it taste like Granny’s,” she said. “Snacks will be on the sideboard for the evening in case anyone gets the munchies. Television has cable, and when I get the kitchen cleaned up, I’m off to my quarters and you gentlemen are on your own. Breakfast is on the bar from five o’clock until six.”

  She sautéed a cup of sliced onions in real butter then slowly browned the venison in the same deep skillet. When both sides were seared she added a cup of beef broth, put a lid on the heavy cast iron kettle and set it inside the refrigerator to marinate overnight. Tomorrow she would cook it in a slow oven and then add potatoes and carrots an hour before she was ready to serve it. A big basket of hot rolls and a salad would complete their supper. Maybe she’d make a deep dish apple pie and serve it warm with cinnamon ice cream.

  The men were engrossed in the football game on television and stories of the big bucks during commercials when she climbed the stairs to the loft which was her own private world; a bedroom/sitting room combination with her grandmother’s four-poster bed on one wall, a comfortable sofa facing the sliding glass doors onto an upstairs balcony over the garage, and a small bathroom. On the third wall, not c
overed with furniture or glass doors were floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with her favorite authors.

  She chose an old friend from the bottom shelf, a Sue Grafton, and opened the worn pages to begin reading it again. She finished five pages then gazed out at the winter stars twinkling in the dark sky. She picked the book up again and realized she didn’t know what she’d read or where she’d stopped. Her thoughts kept going back to Rance and his dark, brooding eyes. A tickling sensation deep down in her very soul disturbed her. Even if he had awakened the sleeping desires, she had to stop thinking about the man. He, like all the other men in the hunting party, was married and had children.

  Finally she laid the book aside and took a long cool shower, set her alarm clock and picked up the phone.

  “Dee, were you asleep?” She asked her best friend.

  “No, just getting out of the shower. Jack is working on the computer. He’s at the stage in his invention where if I breathe too heavy it disturbs him. But, hey, that’s the way he brings in all those big beautiful dollars. I’m not complaining. What’s going on?”

  “I’ve got a boarder, Matter of fact every room is filled but this one . . .”

  “Aha, one has gotten around your cold heart, huh? Who is he and what’s his name? Want me to come over right now or wait until morning?” Dee asked.

  “He’s married and he looks like my ex,” Stella said.

  “Then take a cold shower and forget about him.”

  “I already had one and it didn’t work.”

  “Then take another one and no, you can not have a married man. Especially one that looks like your ex. Sorry, darlin’,” Dee said.

  “How come I’m not surprised you’d say that? Come around for coffee and pecan pie in the morning. Jack can use the time to finish his project. Good night.”

  “For pecan pie I’ll be there whether he’s finished or not. Bye now.”

  “See you tomorrow,” Stella hung up and went back to the shower.

  Chapter Two

  Dee ate pecan pie and watched Stella cut fresh fruit for a salad. “I want the scoop. I heard he’s staying two whole weeks. How’d he ever get under your skin? I thought you were never going to look at another man.”

  “This coming from the girl who was married six months after her divorce,” Stella said.

  Dee cut a second piece of pecan pie and refilled her coffee cup. “Annulment. I’m not a divorced woman. I was never married. I lived seven years in sin. Think God and Roxie will forgive me for that?”

  Stella nodded. “God might. Roxie’s a lot tougher. She and Granny Molly and Etta were the queens of the bed and breakfast establishments in Murray County, you know, and their rules are stricter than God’s.”

  “Oh yes, I know. Not a day goes by Roxie doesn’t remind me that she’s my grandmother and all southern ladies respect their grandmothers, and that she’s one of the three old bed and breakfast queens in the area. You miss Molly don’t you? You have to, because I do, and she was your grandmother. Roxie and Etta miss her terribly. Lord, I can’t even think of life without Roxie. She drives me crazy sometimes but I love her.”

  “Yes, I do miss Granny. So much it hurts. Some days it seems like she’s right here in the room with me, telling me what to put in a recipe. Other times I want her to be here and realize she’s gone. But back to Rance. He’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen and he makes my knees turn into Jell-O and my heart do double time and he’s married and why do I always have to pick the ones who are either rascals or unavailable,” Stella whined. “It’s not fair. You got Jack and ya’ll have a baby coming. I want those things too, but . . .”

  “But you can’t have them with a married man, darlin’, and what on earth changed your mind? Last week you were going to be an old hermit who ran this boarding house until one Monday morning you dropped dead after having fourteen guests for two solid weeks. At least I think that’s the right number,” Dee said.

  “He did. Rance changed my mind and I didn’t have a thing to do with it. I guess it’s time to get back into the dating game. But, Dee, I’m twenty six years old and it’s awkward.”

  “Yes, it is. I’m glad Jack was my best friend and he was there when I came home. We kind of just fell into love without all the folderol around it.” Dee licked the last remnants of the pie from her fork and eyed the rest of the pie. With a sigh, she decided two pieces were enough. Her obstetrician would have a fit if she gained another five pounds by next week.

  Stella sipped her hot tea. “You fell into it. Jack never fell out of it. He’s been in love with you since third grade.”

  “I know. It’s mind boggling. Hate to eat and run but that’s what I’m going to do. Who else besides this Rance have you got tonight? Want to come down to Roxie’s for a lemonade and watch the sunset

  Stella shook her head. “I’d love to but I’ve got five bikers. Big old burly men who look like they are part of Hell’s Angels but aren’t anything but teddy bears in leather. And a bunch of hikers. Mommie dearest. Daddy darling. A girl that looks like she poses for the front of one of those shape up magazines and a couple of sons.”

  “Been eyeing Rance, has she?”

  “Oh, hush and eat and run,” Stella frowned.

  Dee could get right to the root of things, even when they were kids, and it always came out witty. Cute, short and funny. That was Dee. Stella was the gangly, long legged, horsy one without a graceful bone in her body. Last year, Dee’s husband came home one day and announced they were no longer married. He and his rich folks had just had a seven year marriage annulled so he could marry his old high school sweetheart who was pregnant with his child. Dee told Stella that she’d decided to never trust another man. Jack changed that tune real fast. He’d been her best friend forever and lived right next door to the grandmother who’d raised both Dee and her sister, Tally. Roxie’s B&B; that stood for Roxie’s Bed and Breakfast, or Roxie’s Bellyachin’ and Blessin’s, depending on who was talking. Jack and Dee had fallen in love and been married a little longer than Stella had run the Brannon Inn.

  “Call me tonight after Mr. Hunk goes to bed. We’ll talk.” Dee grabbed a chocolate chip cookie from the jar on the table and waved.

  “This is a pretty nice little set up you got here. Rustic and homey. Bet you get lots of hunters and fishermen,” the young woman meandered around the dining room.

  “Quite a few.” Stella spread a lace tablecloth on the long table and scattered a few candles in brass holders randomly down the middle.

  “Mind if I do a few stretching exercises before supper?”

  “Not at all,” Stella said.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist or even a person with an IQ in the single digits to figure out Jewel was waiting on Rance. The rest of the family was still in their rooms, but Jewel had stowed her gear in a hurry and was back in the dining room before Stella could turn around twice. Jewel in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt was pretty amazing. Tight fitting little hiking britches and a sweater at least two sizes too small would make any man’s eyes spin around in his head.

  Stella tried not to watch her do leg lifts or hook her toes under the edge of the sofa and do sit ups at a nice slow pace. But she kept stealing glances toward the lady.

  I’d be ready to dial 911 on the third sit up. Wait until Rance comes in and sees that piece of work in action. I’ll probably have to supply a drooling bowl beside his and those five biker’s plates tonight.

  Stella had taken extra pains with her hair, brushing it up into a French twist; she’d even applied a little makeup. She’d splashed on some of the cologne her mother had given her for Christmas the year before. Then she’d gotten angry at herself for the effort. Rance Harper was married and had two children. Lord, why did she have to be attracted to rogues and rascals? Besides if he wasn’t married or didn’t have children, she’d sure enough take a back seat to the competition in the living room.

  “Speak of the devil.” She murmured when she heard the crunch of tires in the fr
ont yard. He’d said he would be back in time for supper and he was right on time.

  She had a bunch of hikers on one wing that ate no meat and preferred fresh vegetables and nothing, absolutely nothing with preservatives. On the other wing she had five big strapping men, four motorcyclists who’d booked in for one night, and Rance. All of whom thought there were three food groups—beefsteak, pork sausage and chili. She mentally drew a line down the middle of the dining room table cloth. Hikers on this end with the wooden bowl of fresh salad and a loaf of warm whole wheat bread, along with a spinach lasagna with low-fat cheese. Bikers and Rance on the other with twice baked potatoes topped with shredded cheddar cheese, crumbled bacon bits, sweet cream butter and pure sour cream, along with a platter of medium rare grilled T-bone steaks and a salad tossed with her special Brannon Inn dressing.

  Rance opened the front door. “I’m here. And it smells wonderful.”

  Stella’s heart picked up a thumping beat when he walked in the door. She had to work to keep focused on the table. It was definitely time for her to think about dating, but how could she get back into that whirlwind circle again after more than five years? She was twenty six years old and the last time she went out with anyone was when Mitch swept her off her nineteen year old feet and asked her to marry him. One thing for danged sure, when she got ready to go out again, it wouldn’t be with someone who had jet black hair and ebony eyes. She didn’t care if he had a personality of gold and a bank roll big enough to buy the state of Texas. She would find a nice, stable blond haired man with light eyes, maybe even one who stuttered or had some other imperfection; someone most definitely with no desires to be an actor.

  If nobody else wants him, then why would you? Granny Brannon’s voice was as clear as if she was actually standing right behind her. I told you that when you were sixteen and you came in here whining and carrying on about that rascal, Joel Curtis. Remember? He was flirting with that hussy who worked at the Sonic and you got jealous.