Touching the bullet hole on a nickel-plated cash register from 1909, she turned to him with an awed grin. “We’ve got loads of portraits and family jewels at Andrew’s country estate, but the Wild West was a whole other world, wasn’t it?”
He could only nod. Since he’d never loved anyone before, he still hadn’t quite gotten over the enormity of it. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky. Why would a woman this full of life and love and joy want to be with me?
“Hello.” A woman about their age came around a corner carrying a mug. “Oh. You must be Phinny.” She reached her hand out. “I’m Waverly.”
“Thank you so much for meeting with us.”
“Declan.” He shook her hand. “We appreciate your time.”
“I know I’ve been pushy,” Phinny said. “But the competition’s tomorrow, and we’ve run out of time.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure. My grandmother’s the curator, but she’s out of town for the month.” She grinned. “Believe it or not, she met a surfer on a dating app, and she went to Hawaii to watch him compete. So, she asked me to help her out.” Her brow furrowed. “But wait a sec…aren’t you two competing against each other?”
“We are, but we both want what’s best for my dad’s land,” Phinny said.
That might’ve been the first time she’d referred to Kurt as her dad. Maybe she was more invested than she realized.
“So, is your grandmother the only curator?” Phinny asked.
“Oh, no. She gets interns from the university and other volunteers, but people move on. There’s not a lot of funding for this little place.”
“That surprises me.” Phinny’s gaze wandered the room. “It’s amazing.”
“It is, but there are several museums in Jackson County, and this one doesn’t compare. It’s sort of a pet project of some of the families who’ve lived here for generations. Basically, everything you see comes from their attics. Speaking of which, let me show you to the Grevers’ room.”
Something passed through Phinny. He only knew because he had his hand on her hip and felt the slight tremor of energy. Pressing her hands together, she didn’t immediately follow the curator. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
“Maybe because, over the last four weeks, you’ve come to see them as your family.”
“Yes, you’re right about that.” She reached for his hand. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”
“There’s nowhere else I want to be.”
She grinned. “I never imagined hearing words like that coming out of your mouth.”
“They never have.” Until you.
Together, they walked down a hall to a large room at the back of the house. He’d been here before, of course, but it never lost its magic. Because every single thing in this room was used by Kurt’s family members.
“Originally, this museum was nothing more than a one-room shack. It’s one of the oldest settlements in Jackson Hole.” Waverly stepped aside to let them deeper into the room. “Over generations, they added on.”
Slowly taking it all in, Phinny moved toward a glass case against the wall. “It’s a map.”
“So, picture this,” Waverly said. “The five brothers standing around, talking about the land they’d acquired. At this point, they’d walked every square inch, named every butte, mountain, river, and stream. One of them grabs a stick and starts drawing in the dirt. The others join in until together, they map it all out. It was a good, useful tool, so Joshua Grevers drew it onto animal skin with charcoal. And then a few years later, it was transferred onto paper.”
“I can totally picture that. Thank you for making it so vivid.” Phinny reached for a rifle, her gaze landing on a bronze plate that read Mariah Grevers 1892. A sideboard against the wall held random artifacts, and she looked to Waverly, asking permission.
“You’re welcome to touch anything that’s not behind a glass frame or locked inside a display case.”
“How old is this?” Phinny held up the object.
“It’s from around 1900. That’s a sad iron. Sad’s the old English word for solid.” Waverly headed for the door. “All right, well, if you have any questions, just holler. I’ll be right down the hall.”
Phinny’s expression had him moving closer to her. “Hey, you okay?” He could read the mix of emotions duking it out inside his golden girl—awe, sorrow, confusion—and his fingers sifted through the silky hair cascading down her back.
“I’m touching something my great great grandmother used. Right here. In this room.”
“Yes.” He knew exactly how she felt, even though none of it was his family’s.
“I just can’t believe it. I mean, I’m touching history.” She looked around. “They ate dinner on that table. I can imagine my great great grandmother nursing a baby in that rocking chair. I’m just…overwhelmed.” She lifted her gaze to him. “This is my family.”
“Yeah, it is.” The jolt of anxiety he got surprised him. Because he wanted her to win. To keep the ranch. It was her legacy. So where had that shock of fear come from?
Well, fuck. He guessed it meant more to him than he’d realized.
He supposed all he could do was play to win.
Phinny stood backstage at the Music Box, her stomach in knots. She couldn’t believe a month had passed since she’d watched Harrison Goodman address the “hockey boys” in his office instead of her.
As Kurt’s only child, she’d assumed he’d leave her something meaningful. She hadn’t known what. She hadn’t really cared. It had been a terrible, confusing time, and at that point, she’d only wanted a glimpse. Peering into the window of his life, getting a sense of him, of what he was thinking—about me—would’ve been enough.
Now, she was ravenous for more. She wanted to dig around her dad’s attic and gorge on history. She wanted to meet more of the quirky, eccentric people of Calamity. She could picture herself in her new store making a cup of tea for someone who’d come in to show her a craft they’d never really told anyone about but wondered if Phinny would like to sell. She wanted to become part of this community.
But mostly, she wanted more of the man standing beside her. The man she’d fallen completely, wildly in love with. “This is it.” She looked to Declan to find him calm and collected. She gently elbowed him in the stomach. “Your confidence is annoying.”
Chuckling, he gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You got this.”
“How are you so sure of yourself?”
“Because either outcome is fine with me.”
“What does that even mean? One of us wins the ranch, and the other walks away with nothing.”
He pressed a sweet kiss on her mouth. “Not true. Either way, I walk away with you.” And then he lifted the thick velvet curtain and stepped out onto the stage.
That man held her heart in the palm of his hand. “You’re just trying to throw me off, aren’t you?” She followed him out there. “Turn me into a wobbly pudding so I can’t think straight.”