It's In His Smile (A Red River Valley Novel Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

antiques and parlor furniture still filled the inn, at least the rooms Talmadge had seen, and were covered with drop cloths. Building materials were stacked around the room in no particular order. Several workbenches were covered with miscellaneous junk, none of which looked like a real project with purpose.
    Talmadge gave up, kept holding the dog, and moved across the room to the stone fireplace where a fire blazed. The flames helped kill the chill that hung in the room because the walls were exposed down to the studs, and the insulation was gone. He stroked Lloyd’s head with the fingertips of his injured arm. Even that small movement hurt, but the little guy wouldn’t stop shaking. When the warmth of the fire started to seep into them, Lloyd’s tremors slowed.
    Talmadge smiled at the pooch. Funny. Warming himself by the fire had been one of Talmadge’s favorite things to do in this room once upon a time. He kept stroking the dog’s cotton ball head and stared into the fire.
    Uncle Joe, Bea’s brother, younger by twelve years, walked over to stand with Talmadge.
    “You going to be okay, Uncle Joe?” Talmadge gave his great-uncle a warm smile because the owner of Red River’s most popular watering hole—all six feet four inches, two hundred and eighty pounds of him—had cried on and off like a baby since he’d first called Talmadge with the news.
    Joe took a handkerchief out of his back pocket and blew his bulbous nose. Loud. “Yeah.” He sniffed and nodded, his aging double chin wagging a little. “Bea was like a second mom to me. She darn near raised me, just as much as our mother did.”
    Talmadge knew exactly what that was like. “She raised both of us, didn’t she?”
    Another blow and sniff, and Joe put the handkerchief back in his pocket. He propped an arm on the mantle, his tweed sports coat going taut against his enormous girth. “She did. And helped out a whole lot of other folks, too. More than I can count.”
    Speaking of . . . Without turning his head, Talmadge found the woman Bea never failed to exalt during every single weekly phone call over the past two years. He studied Miranda from the corner of his eye.
    In a fresh pair of jeans that fit her rounded bottom like shrink-wrap, she gathered up dirty plates and cups, wadded napkins, and silverware. The sparkly things on her pockets held his attention as she made her way into the kitchen, and then returned to gather up more. She stopped every so often to greet one of the few remaining guests, consoling with a hug or a squeeze of their hand. A fluid smile stayed anchored to her full lips, but it didn’t show in her gold-flecked eyes. She clearly missed Bea as much as anyone else, including himself.
    Unlike him, though, Miranda had been there for Bea. That fact had driven a rusty nail into his conscience out on the patio a few minutes ago and during most of his weekly calls to Bea. Miranda’s deep well of compassion toward his grandmother had brought him comfort as well as pricked his guilt. Which was why he’d interrogated her outside when he really should’ve been thanking her. Something told him that Miranda wouldn’t consider that unexpected kiss he’d laid on her a show of gratitude.
    But the grief in her simulated smile made him want to take her in his arms. Kiss her until the hollowness in his chest filled with the same warmth she’d shown Bea and the sadness in her eyes turned to a glimmer of desire. Her eyes shimmering with passion was a beautiful sight. Even if it had been seven years since he’d last seen it, it wasn’t something he’d ever forget.
    Sometimes it occupied his thoughts during lonely nights when he couldn’t sleep.
    The afternoon sun shining through the windows glinted off her silky black hair as it bounced around her shoulders with each step and movement. Not even the cheap fluorescent lighting made her less attractive.
    Even in high school she had always seemed to catch the light. But she’d been too young