Still half-asleep, Libby headed for the coffeepot on the kitchen counter and poured herself a mug.
Clara returned a baking pan to the cupboard. “Sam told me you had trouble with one of the guests. Vince.” She said the name as if it burned her tongue. “I tried to like him, but he was never really friendly. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m all right.” She didn’t want to think about it. She especially didn’t want to talk about it. “It’s over and they’re gone.”
Sam walked through the back door just then and spotted her next to the sink. He strode toward her in that sexy way of his, long legs moving with power and confidence. There was an air of authority about him that always made her feel safe.
He poured himself a cup of coffee. “The sheriff just left. Let’s go into the living room where we can talk.” Reaching out, he took her hand, and they started in that direction.
The living room was large, a beautiful high-ceilinged room with big plate-glass windows looking out at distant snow-capped peaks. Sam led her over to the seating area in front of the river rock fireplace, and they sat down on the brown leather sofa.
“Sheriff Carver was here,” Sam said. “I called him to report what happened on the mountain.”
Libby nodded, coffee mug cradled in her hands. “I saw his car through the window.”
“Carver ran a check on Vince Nolan and Max Stoddard, but nothing turned up. No outstanding warrants, nothing like that.”
“That’s good, I guess.”
“Maybe. Max had an apartment in Denver, where apparently Vince was staying, but Max recently moved out, and neither of them left a forwarding address.”
Sam ran a hand over his jaw. He had shaved that morning, exposing the cleft in his chin. “I checked Max’s driver’s license when he arrived. Address matched the one in Denver he used when he booked the cabin online. That’s our usual procedure.” He shook his head. “Even if I’d dug deeper, nothing would have turned up.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Sam. There’s no way to tell if you can trust someone just by looking at them. They’re gone now. That’s the important thing.”
Sam said nothing.
“I need to get going,” Libby said. “The cabins need to be cleaned. I want to make sure Wolverine is thoroughly scrubbed. Before we left on the trip, I smelled cigarette smoke in there.”
A muscle ticked in Sam’s jaw. “No smoking allowed. They agreed to that when they booked the cabin.”
“I’ll air it out before the next guests arrive.”
“I had a bad feeling about those two,” Sam said. “I should have listened to my instincts.”
“What happened wasn’t your fault,” Libby said again.
Sam exhaled a slow breath, and Libby could tell he was trying to hold on to his temper.
“Why don’t you take the day off?” he suggested. “You deserve it. I’ll have Dare or one of the other hands fill in for you.”
Libby shook her head. “No way. I already missed breakfast. I can’t just sit in my room.” She took her mug and rose from the leather sofa. “I’ll see you later.” She took off before Sam could try to persuade her. Sitting around all day wouldn’t make her feel any better.
She worked through the morning and had the afternoon to herself. With nothing to do until it was time to help with supper, she wandered outside.
The first time she had seen the tiny, miniature goats, she had completely fallen in love. Some snowy white with black legs, some brown and white, others black and white, they were funny and sweet and were beginning to recognize her because she sometimes sneaked them treats.
Libby headed in that direction. Shoving open the gate, she went into the pen and sat down on the grass beneath the tree to watch them leap and play and butt their heads in mock battles. It was a sunny, beautiful Colorado day as she leaned against the tree trunk and let the sun warm her.
The little goats came up to nuzzle her hand, and she smiled in pleasure. She would only close her eyes for a moment, she told herself. Just a few seconds to feel the sun on her face and the goats’ silky coats beneath her hands.
She smiled as she drifted to sleep.
* * * *
Sam had been looking for Libby all over. Finding no sign of her, he was beginning to worry. He had no idea which rock Stoddard and Nolan had crawled back under or whether they might return to the ranch. Vince seemed to be obsessed with Libby. Sam didn’t trust the man not to cause more trouble.
He spotted Big John and headed in his direction. “I’m looking for Libby. Have you seen her?”
The big man nodded. “I will show you where she is.”
Sam followed John’s long strides toward the pen that held the pygmy goats. Libby sat on the ground at the base of a tree, her legs out in front of her, a tiny goat curled up on each side of her, another in her lap. Her golden hair streamed over her shoulders, her eyes were closed, and there was a soft smile on her face. All of them were asleep.
For a moment, Sam thought he must have fallen down the rabbit hole and stumbled across Alice in Wonderland. He looked at this woman he had reluctantly accepted into his life, and his heart simply turned over.
Big John grunted low in his throat. “I wonder if she knows yet that she is home.”
Sam glanced over at his friend. “What?”
“This woman, she does not belong in the city.”
His chest clamped down. “What are you talking about? Libby lives in Manhattan. In a few weeks, she’ll go back and we’ll probably never see her again.”
Big John cast him a glance that was far too perceptive, then just turned and walked away.
What the hell? But when Sam looked back at Libby, emotion tightened his throat. You can’t have her, his mind warned. She’s a city girl. She could never be happy here.
But for the first time since Libby’s arrival, Sam wasn’t so sure.
One thing he knew—he was setting himself up for heartache if he didn’t get his feelings in check.
Instead of waking her, Sam left her sleeping with the tiny goats and headed back to the house.
Chapter Thirteen
“Why don’t you go to bed,” Libby said to Clara when supper was over. Clara’s rooms off the kitchen were comprised of a living area with TV, bedroom and bath. She enjoyed crocheting and reading in the evenings and usually headed off as soon as supper was over.
“I’ll make sure everything is put away before I go upstairs,” Libby finished.
Clara yawned. “Are you sure?”