RaeAnne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One: Blackberry Summer\Woodrose Mountain\Sweet Laurel Falls (37 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

T
HE PLACE WAS PACKED
. He couldn't see an empty chair anywhere. Claire must be thrilled at the turnout. At this rate, maybe they could raise enough green for two or three scholarships.

With nowhere to sit, Riley leaned a shoulder against the back wall to watch. He scanned the crowd, only half listening to the bidding going on for some kind of antique necklace. He could see his sister Angie and her husband, holding hands and looking easy and sweet together. His mother sat with Ruth and Katherine near the front and it looked like she'd already bid on something, judging by the package on her lap. Alex was there with some guy he didn't know.

There were a couple of seats, he finally noticed, near Mayor and Mrs. Beaumont. Nervy of them to come, he thought, when they were trying to extricate their son from the consequences of his actions—one of which resulted in the death of the girl the town had come together to honor.

Was it a coincidence that the two of them sat slightly apart from the crowd? Laura Beaumont looked as composed and distant as always in what looked like a designer dress, her makeup perfect, a flashy piece of bling around her neck. The two sat side by side, not
even brushing shoulders and when she turned briefly in his direction, he saw dark circles under her eyes her makeup couldn't completely conceal.

He had been so frustrated with the mayor these past few weeks that this unexpected pang of sympathy took him completely by surprise. Yeah, the man was handling the situation completely wrong, but Laura and William must be heartsick, seeing their son's future implode.

Kids put their parents through hell. He certainly had. It was a wonder his own mother was willing to still talk to him after all his crap.

“Come on,” the auctioneer was saying. “Remember, this is a part of Hope's Crossing history, made from silver taken out of the original Silver Strike lode.”

Riley turned his attention to the auction and saw the bid was for a flimsy filigree necklace on a velvet-covered form.

“You have the chance to take home a piece of history here, folks. Bid is two thousand dollars. Do I hear twenty-one? Twenty-one? No? Going once, going twice, sold to number seventy-five for two thousand dollars. Sir, you may come up and collect your item and provide your information to our lovely assistants.”

Holly Bradford jumped up with a little squeal and hugged her husband, then the two of them headed to the side of the dais, where Claire now stood holding the necklace. He was close enough that he could see her expression. Her mouth seemed tight and he thought he saw a glimmer of sadness in her eyes, but he wasn't sure whether it was a trick of the lighting, especially
when she smiled graciously enough when Holly gave her a giggling hug.

He couldn't hear their interaction but he could guess, especially when Holly turned around, leaving Claire to fasten the necklace on her.

That cheerful smile never left her features even amid her ex-husband's younger wife's excitement, and Riley's throat constricted. In that moment, he loved Claire so fiercely that he couldn't breathe around it.

“Our last piece of jewelry of the evening is this exquisite handmade piece created by the organizer of today's incredibly successful event, our very own Claire Bradford. Folks, let's give her another round of applause.”

Riley clapped the loudest and Claire slanted a look toward him. Their eyes met for a long moment, hers guarded, his solemn. Something significant passed between them, unspoken but intense.

When she turned away, she was blushing—and he was determined to take her from here as soon as he could.

The auctioneer picked up the necklace, also displayed on a velvet jewelry form. He didn't know anything about beading but even he could see the piece was exquisite, a tangle of color that gleamed brilliantly in the ballroom lights, anchored by a stunning rose-colored heart.

“Claire tells me this is made out of precious and semiprecious gems, each of which can be found in the mountains of Colorado. We've got aquamarine, the state gem of Colorado, as well as topaz and tourmaline. She estimates about a hundred hours of work went into
this—and keep in mind, this was all done while the designer and creator had a broken arm.”

The crowd applauded again and Claire gave an embarrassed but pleased smile.

“Claire calls this piece the Heart of Hope. Fitting, don't you think? Let's start the bidding at a hundred dollars. Anyone?”

Riley looked at the necklace gleaming there in the light and then he turned to the woman he loved, whose strength and beauty would always outshine anything else.

He smiled, knowing just what he had to do. He stepped forward and raised his hand. “Twenty-five hundred dollars,” he called out.

All eyes turned to him and a few people gasped. He didn't care about anyone else or about how foolish he felt bidding on a necklace. He only cared about Claire. Her expression was stunned, her eyes huge and her mouth slightly open. After a moment she swallowed, the look of shock changing to something else, something bright and glittery.

“Okay.” The auctioneer hesitated for only a beat. “Now
that's
what I'm talking about, folks. The new chief of police starts things out right. The bid is twenty-five hundred, do I hear twenty-seven-fifty?”

“Three thousand,” a gruff voice called out.

Riley spun around and found his competitor was Harry Lange, the old bastard. The guy gave him an annoying smirk and Riley wished again he'd shoved that stogie down his throat.

“Thirty-five,” Riley said immediately.

“Thirty-seven-fifty,” Lange countered.

“Four,” Riley said. Oh, he was in it now. He knew Harry had no desire for the necklace, he was only goading him on. He didn't know what Harry was playing at and at this point he didn't care. He had finally figured out just what treasure he had been about to throw away and he wasn't letting some grouchy old man yank it out of his hands.

“We've got a bid of four thousand. Do I hear forty-five?”

“Forty-two-fifty,” Lange said before the words were out.

“Forty-two-fifty, going once, going twice.”

“Five,” Riley said quickly.

“Do I hear fifty-two-fifty?”

He waited for the other guy to counter, holding his breath. While Lange might have endless pockets, Riley unfortunately did not. He did have a healthy nest egg he had built through shrewd investments and he had no problem using some of it for this cause. At heart, this was about a scholarship fund in his niece's name, not about Claire's necklace.

The silence seemed to drag on while everybody waited for the little drama to play out.

“Five thousand, going once…going twice…”

Lange made a little gesture of defeat to Riley, that smirk still on his features.

“Sold, to the new police chief for five thousand dollars. Chief, do you want to come up and collect your item?”

As he made his way to the dais, he heard the swell of whispers, the speculation about why the unattached
chief of police would spend five grand on a pretty piece of jewelry.

“That's going to look smashing with your badge,” his sister Angie teased as he passed her.

He ignored her and Alex's narrow-eyed look of suspicion. Out of the corner of his gaze, he caught his mother's bright, delighted smile, but he didn't return it, focused only on moving forward to reach out for his prize.

He supposed while he was up there, he might as well pick up the necklace, too.

 

A
S
R
ILEY SEEMED TO MOVE
toward her in slow motion, Claire couldn't manage to grab hold of her wildly whirling thoughts.

Five thousand dollars for her necklace! It was outrageous. She had been hoping for a tenth of that and would have been over the moon if it had sold for a thousand. Five! What was Riley doing?

She couldn't hear anything over the pounding of her pulse in her ears as Riley continued moving toward her, his green eyes full of an emotion she couldn't name. He looked delicious in an elegant tux that seemed out of character but absolutely right on him.

She had tried not to stare at him all evening—when he'd been dancing with his mother, when he'd stopped to tease Angie, when he had flirted outrageously with a couple of the older ladies who came to the senior citizen beading group. She couldn't help it if he happened to spend entirely too much time in her line of vision. Purely unintentional, she had told herself.

Now she couldn't seem to look away.

“Hi,” he murmured when he was only a few feet away. The auction was continuing on without them. They could have been selling the deed to her house for all she knew or cared right then.

She cleared her throat and worked the fastenings connecting the necklace to the form. “You paid entirely too much for this.”

“I disagree. It's for a good cause.”

Claire was entirely too aware that several people around them—primarily his family and her mother—were just as oblivious to the auction still going on, focusing instead on their little drama.

“Um, I have a box for it so you can take it home.”

“I'll just take it now. No box necessary. Thank you.”

He held out a hand and she didn't know what else to do. She handed it to him and couldn't help thinking how incongruous it looked, all those pretty, glittery stones in his masculine fingers.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

She stared. “Excuse me?”

“Turn around so I can put the necklace on you.”

They were drawing even more attention, Claire thought as she stood frozen. Harry Lange, of all people, was giving them a very amused look, as close to smiling as she'd ever seen him. Strange. Ruth was glaring, no surprise there. Jeff and Holly were both looking baffled, while Katherine and Mary Ella beamed at each other.

“I don't understand,” she finally said.

“What's to understand? I bought it for you.”

“You…what?”

“It's yours. It rightfully belongs to you. You named it the Heart of Hope, didn't you?” he said, his voice low. “I figure it's only proper, then, that it should belong to the person who
is
actually the Heart of Hope's Crossing.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding at the heat in his eyes and the glittery emotion there.

She knew she was blushing—even more so when he moved behind her and removed the necklace she was wearing, a simple strand of pearls that had seemed to fit her dress better than any of her other pieces. More people had turned in their direction, she saw. Even the auctioneer seemed to sense he had lost the attention of his bidders and he was waiting for the moment to pass before continuing.

Riley fastened the necklace she had made around her neck and she felt the weight of it, cool and smooth.

“There,” he murmured. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

He wasn't talking about the necklace. Her gaze searched his and she saw a fierce tenderness in his eyes.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek, right there in front of everyone in town.

“You're perfect,” he murmured in her ear, so no one else could hear. “And now you've got both of my hearts.”

Claire's breath left her in a whoosh. She wanted desperately to trust this was real, but how could she? Love wasn't about grand, romantic gestures. It was hard work, it was struggle, it was compromise. It was
cleaning up fallen branches after a storm and fixing broken bicycles and taking care of each other.

Much to her relief, the auctioneer made a funny comment and managed to grab attention back to the item currently on the block, the painting Sarah Colville had donated.

“Do you have to finish things up here or can we go somewhere and talk for a minute?” he asked.

Claire looked around at her well-organized committee, who had handled everything so far with competent flair. She could make an excuse, tell him she had too much to do. Some part of her urged her to do just that. He had already hurt her by walking away. What would be different this time?

But then she thought of her misery the past two weeks, the gray pall that seemed to hang over everything, the regret eating at her insides for what they might have had together.

Riley had risked his life in that accident to save her and her children. What kind of coward would she be if she refused to take any sort of risk in return?

“Okay,” she finally answered.

Riley's brilliant smile sent hundreds of glittery butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

He took her hand and headed for the door. Claire wobbled along on her cast and the single strappy heel she wore on the other foot, struggling to keep up with him. After a few steps, he must have realized she was having trouble. He stopped, took a careful look at the crowd where a few people still furtively watched them, then he scooped her up, cast and all, her evening dress fluttering over his arm.

She heard a few gasps and titters behind them, but in that moment, Claire didn't care, not with the bubbling laugh pulsing through her.

He was out the door and through the lobby in the time it would have taken her to lodge a protest—not that he would have listened anyway—and then they passed through the wide, carved doors into a cool mountain evening, sparkling with stars.

“That was quite a romantic gesture, Chief McKnight. I'm sure you set more than a few hearts aflutter.”

He grinned, looking dark and dangerous and gorgeous, and Claire fell hard for him all over again. “What can I say? I'm a romantic guy.”

“Where are we going?”

“You'll see.”

He carried her just a few more feet until they reached a bench angled toward the canyon and the distant gleam of Hope's Crossing.

Even though she could hear the distant sounds of the auction, of a few vehicles coming and going from the hotel, they were completely alone here. She shivered a little and Riley instantly removed his tuxedo jacket and slipped it over her.