Big Sky Cowboy. Jennifer Mikels

jeans. Briefly she glanced at the ornate rodeo buckle, took in the broad shoulders in the blue chambray shirt, the well-defined muscles in sinewy arms beneath the rolled-up sleeves. An ex-rodeo champion who fluttered the hearts of most women under the age of forty, he tipped back his square-crowned, beige Stetson.

      She studied the strong face with the high cheekbones, the sharply drawn jaw. In his late twenties, lean of hip, rugged-looking, he bore a few lines at the corners of brown eyes. A summer tan emphasized just how dark those deep-set eyes were.

      “He’s so sexy,” Marla said under her breath. Single, in her late twenties, with straw-colored blond hair that hung to her mid back, Marla was a born romantic, convinced love was just around the corner despite a breakup a week ago from her childhood sweetheart. Freethinking, she possessed the right mind-set for working at the shop with its New Age merchandise. She’d become indispensable to Tessa. More important, in two months, she’d become a loyal friend.

      Marla wandered over to her twin sister, Regina, who’d come in for a numerology book. The only other customer was octogenarian Margaret Hansen.

      Tessa laid a deck of tarot cards on the display counter. The top card was the Queen of Cups. Tessa groaned. It usually signified romance. Well, she had expected him, hadn’t she? The moment his fingers had brushed hers when she’d handed him the plate yesterday, she’d felt the warning jolt and a quick breathless sensation. But premonitions weren’t written in stone. She’d stay clear of him and block any future contact.

      Prepared, she looked up. She knew what he wanted, and she didn’t want any part of it. He didn’t look too friendly, she decided. In the newspaper, he’d always worn a wide smile, the smile of a champion. At the moment, he bore a less than congenial expression, his mouth set in a tight line. Well-schooled at masking her uneasiness behind a breezy demeanor, she flashed a bright smile. “Hi, again. Did you enjoy the wedding?”

      “Did you?” He stopped beside a table where she’d set out a Ouija board.

      “Yes, I did. Sylvia’s a friend.” Except for Marla, her twin sister, Regina, and several customers, Sylvia was one of the few friends Tessa had made since arriving in town. “There was such a positive karma there.” His frown deepened, as she’d hoped it would. She needed to discourage him quickly.

      “Was there?”

      “Yes, but your aura is disturbing.” For extra effect, she wrinkled her nose. “Greenish. You should come in for a psychic reading.”

      “I’ll pass.”

      Of course, he would. This was not a whimsical man. “Oh, you’re not of that mind.”

      For a moment he said nothing. He didn’t need to. His eyes narrowed, and he looked at her as if she was crazy. “No, I’m not.”

      “Too bad. You definitely need to cleanse your subconscious of cosmic disturbances. If you change your mind come see me.” Before he could respond, she turned away. Skirting the counter, she resisted an urge to roll a shoulder against the tension bunching her muscles. On more than one occasion, she’d dissuaded a man with a glimpse of Tessa, the space cadet.

      Since Chelsea Kearns had revealed Tessa’s psychic power, she had been backpedaling, trying to keep a low profile. Tessa wanted so badly to stay in Rumor, to be a part of the community. Different scared some people. Like Leone Burton, she mused. A member of the town council, a pillar of society, the woman was influential, and she didn’t like Tessa.

      Earlier, Leone had stormed in. Gray-haired with ramrod-straight posture, she’d declared war on Tessa’s store. She’d see Tessa gone from town, she said. She wouldn’t allow some fortune-teller to play parlor games with the good people of Rumor.

      Tessa wished she could go back to bed, start the day over. She entered the storeroom, paused beside crates of unopened merchandise and reached for the crowbar on top of the worn-looking oak desk.

      In the doorway, Regina, still holding the book on numerology she’d been thumbing through, peered at her. “He wants your help, Tessa.”

      Tessa pried at one of the metal clips that clamped the top of a crate. “Are you going to the antiques sale tonight, Regina?” she asked instead of responding.

      Marla suddenly appeared. “You should help him. Everyone likes him, Tessa.”

      Regina was just as eager to play Colby Holmes’s advocate. “Tell her more about him,” she urged. “You want to know, don’t you, Tessa?”

      “He used the rodeo winnings he’d saved over years to buy a small ranch and trains horses now. Quarter horses.”

      They were wrong. She didn’t want to know too much about him. She’d felt more than a connection with his nearness. Sensation had swarmed in on her.

      She’d dodged it then, planned to keep it at bay. That was sensible. Though he might view her as foolish with an absurd lifestyle, Tessa weighed situations, always considered the consequences of her actions. Avoiding him and his problem was the right decision.

      “Tessa, he’s coming back here,” Marla said in an excited whisper with a glance over her shoulder.

      Tessa straightened to see him standing in the door way. Flattening a palm against the doorjamb, he looked as if he planned to stay there. “We need to talk.”

      She never expected him to be so obstinate. “I told you—”

      He stepped around Marla and bridged the distance in a few strides. “I know what you said.”

      Head bent, Tessa yanked at the lid on one crate. She stared at the dusty toes of his boots when he stopped inches from her. With the crowbar, she fiercely yanked at the metal clips that clamped the top of a crate.

      “Give me that,” he said, closing a hand over the crowbar.

      Her hand wasn’t quite steady. She looked up, saw that Marla and Regina had disappeared, left her alone with him. “A reflexologist would help you. I sense you’re tense.” Actually she was the tense one.

      With more force than necessary, he worked at the lid, then flipped the final clip on the crate. “My state of mind isn’t why I’m here.”

      “Are you looking for something in particular?” Perhaps he wouldn’t ask her to help if she treated him as a customer, if he thought her too odd. “If you want a reading, I can do your astrological chart. You’re a Taurus.

      Stubborn, steadfast, persistent.”

      His frown deepening, he set the crowbar on an adjacent crate. “A Taurus? How do you know what…”

      “You were born in May. So that’s your birth sign. It’s the bull,” she said and stepped out of the storeroom. She waited until he stood beside her, then gestured toward palm-size crystals in various colors displayed in the store window. “Or we have several healing crystals, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

      As she’d expected, he stared at her again as if she was short a full deck. “Healing crystals?”

      “They’ll help when your shoulder aches.”

      “When my—” His dark eyes slitted. “Is that knowledge about my shoulder supposed to impress me?” She didn’t miss the cynicism lacing his voice. “Everyone knows I had a dislocated shoulder.”

      Tessa was accustomed to mistrust, but for some reason, she wanted to prove to him she wasn’t a liar or a fake. “Yes, that’s true.” The act wasn’t working. He wouldn’t go away no matter how difficult she seemed to be. Tessa went with the truth, hoping it might throw him off guard, confuse him even more. “Like me, they probably read all of that about you in the newspaper.”

      A hint of an amused smile tugged up the corners of his mouth.

      She’d heard he was well-liked. In fact, she couldn’t recall anyone saying anything uncomplimentary about him.

      “You’re a bit of a local hero, Mr. Holmes.