"But…" Kate stared at him, sure she'd misunderstood. Married? People didn't get married after one night in the sack. That was afterglow. Not lasting love. "But Granddad… just because you have sex with someone doesn't mean you have to get married. It's the twenty-first century, for God's sake. Don't be so old-fashioned."

He slowly turned and looked at her. "I may be old-fashioned to you, but I am an honorable man. I would never disrespect a woman. I would hope that a woman I cared about would expect me to be honorable. That's what's wrong with your generation, Katherine. You reduce sex to fornication."

Katherine? She moved toward him. "I'm sorry. It just seems sudden."

"My feelings for Grace started the night I heard her poetry at the grange and have gotten deeper ever since."

"Don't you think you should date for a while first?" She'd never had a marriage proposal, and she'd dated men for as long as three years.

"Katie, I'm in my seventies. I don't exactly have a lot of time to mess around with dating." He patted her on the shoulder as he moved past. "When two people are in love, why wait?"

Kate could think of a lot of reasons. She kept them to herself. If Grace made her grandfather happy, then what kind of granddaughter would she be if she rained on his parade? She just hoped he knew what he was doing. "And you are positive this is what you want? And you're not just feeling-you know-afterglow?"

"This is what I want. I want a woman who is worth more to me than"-he paused and his cheeks turned pink again-"afterglow." He shook his head. "You are worth more than that too, Katie. You are worth everything a man can give you."

Now it was her turn to get red-faced. "I know." But knowing it in her head and not getting "afterglow" until she got a marriage proposal were, two different things. That pony was already before the cart. Or was it that the pony was already out of the gate? Or was it that the pony was giving the milk for free? She wasn't sure.

There were a few things she did know for sure, though. There was no way the pony was going back in the gate. Not when the pony was thirty-four and really liked pulling the milk cart. But her grandfather was right. She deserved more than relationships that went nowhere. Which left her in the same quandary she'd been in the day she'd arrived in Gospel.

Sixteen

"What kind of bread you selling-today?"

"Focaccia."

Ada Dover scrunched up her nose and leaned in for a closer look. Her hair was perfectly sculpted, and the scent of Emeraude engulfed her like a toxic cloud. "It's weird."

"It's very good."

"Still looks weird."

"It has fresh thyme and scallions, Niзoise olives and Parmesan cheese. Would you like to try a sample?"

"I think I better."

Kate bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing as she cut a piece of bread and handed it to Ada. Ada's brows lowered as she chewed. "Yep, I better have a loaf of that," she said.

"Would you like some jalapefio jelly to go with your bread?"

"No. Same as yesterday when you asked."

Kate moved from the bread aisle and walked be hind the counter. "I'm going to keep asking until you say yes."

"Well, don't get your heart too set on it. I've liked your bread and some of that fancy cheese, but I just don't see myself warming up to jelly made with jalapenos." Ada set her purse on the counter and pulled out her wallet. "How's your granddad?"

You've wasted your Emeraude, Kate thought as she rang up the bread. He's off the market. "He's at home today taking it easy."

"Is somethin' wrong with him? His joints acting up? He should get some glucosamine. That'll heal him huckety-buck."

"No. He's just taking the morning off." To recover from his wild night. "He said he'd be in around noon."

Ada handed Kate a five, and Kate handed her back her change. "Are you coming to the poetry reading tomorrow night?"

"Oh, I don't know." Kate's mind raced to think up an excuse. "I think I'll be too busy getting bread ready for the next day," was the best she could do.

"Too bad. You'll miss my new and revised poem about Snickers."

Kate smiled. "Yeah, that is too bad."

Ada put her change away and picked up her bread. "Well, I'll tell ya what. I'll bring over a copy tomorrow afternoon, special for you, so you can read and enjoy it."

"Really?" Kate forced her smile to stay in place. "That would be great."

After Ada left, Kate restocked the "ethnic food" aisle, which consisted of refried beans, salsa, and canned chilies. At noon, Stanley arrived, as he'd said he would. His smile curved up the corners of his mustache, and he hummed what sounded like the William Tell Overture all day. Not "What's New Pussy Cat" or "Delilah," but classical music like Grace listened to.

He had it bad.

At three, Rob called with a delivery for across the parking lot. Kate didn't balk at his laziness this time since she figured he probably wanted to talk over the latest news with her.

As Kate left the grocery store, dull gray clouds hung over the wilderness area, threatening rain. A strong breeze played with the ties that closed her cuffs and secured the front of her cream-colored blouse. She wore a peach flared skirt and cream pumps with ankle straps. Wind whipped her hair as she glanced in the bag and smiled. Four granola bars and a bottle of passion fruit juice. Some people were so predictable.

Inside Sutter Sports, a man and his son looked at a row of mountain bikes while a woman leaned her elbows on the checkout counter. She'd squeezed herself into a tight pair of Wranglers, and her behind was pointed at Kate. Rob stood on the other side of the counter, chatting and tapping a pen on the cash register. He wore a dark green polo with the store's fish logo on the breast pocket, and when he looked up, a smile curved his lips.

"Babe," he said, "I'm so glad you finally got here."

Babe? Either he was really, really hungry, or he was talking to someone else. Kate glanced over her shoulder as she walked toward him. There was no one behind her, and she turned back as Rob came out from behind the counter and moved to her. She was about to ask him if he'd been eating paint chips when he stunned her even more. He wrapped her in a big hug that lifted the heels of her shoes off the floor. The scent of his sandalwood soap filled her lungs and her stomach got a little light, like she'd swallowed some air.

"Pretend to be my girlfriend," he said next to her ear.

Kate glanced behind him as Dixie Howe straightened and turned around. She'd somehow managed to squeeze her breasts into a little midriff top that was more suited for the beach than an overcast day in April. More suited for someone half her age, too.

"What's it worth?"

"I'll give you ten bucks."

"Forget it."

"I'll tell everyone I know that your jalapeno jelly is great and to scoot on over to the M &S and pick up a jar before it's all gone."

She smiled and leaned back far enough to look into those eyes of his surrounded by thick, dark lashes. She placed her free hand on the side of his smooth face and planted a loud kiss on his mouth. His soul patch scratched her chin, and she pulled back and smiled. "Is it me you're glad to see or my granola bars?"

He laughed and set her back on her heels. "Both." One of his hands slid down her spine and rested on the curve of her behind. She gave him a hard look, and he gave her a heart-stopping grin in return. "I'm sure you've met Dixie," he said and turned to face the other woman. He did not, however, remove his hand.

"Yes," Kate answered. "Dixie comes into the M &S. How are you?"

"I'm good." Dixie looked Kate over and shrugged, as if she didn't see the attraction. "Well, I'm going to head out, Rob. If you change your mind, you let me know."

"See ya."

"Change your mind about what?" Kate asked in a hushed voice as soon as the front doors shut behind Dixie.

He glanced at the man and his son looking at bikes, then slid his hand from her behind to her waist. Once again he pulled her close. His Fu Manchu tickled her temple when he spoke close to her ear. "Her version of the sexual pretzel."

"And you're not interested?"

"No. She's… too available to everyone in town."

"And she has those scary fake boobs."

There was a long, silent pause before he said, "Yeah, that, too." He dropped his hand and took the grocery bag from her. "Passion fruit. I thought I told Stanley kiwi." He shrugged. "Want some?"

"No. It's too sweet. I have to be in the right mood for passion fruit."

"That's the difference between men and women. Women have to be in the right mood. Men are always in the mood for a little passion fruit."

"Women need a reason. Men just need a place?"

He popped the top. "You know it, babe."

"Dixie's gone. You can stop calling me babe." He just gave her another grin and turned toward the man and his son. "That Heckler is a nice bike," he said and moved toward them. He took a drink of his passion fruit. "Lightweight and can take a lot of punishment."

"A thousand dollars is a little steep," the father said with a shake of his head.

"How much do you want to spend?"

" I can't afford anything more than three hundred."

"I just got in a Mongoose for two-fifty-nine." Rob pointed toward the back with his bottle. "I'll show it to you." The three of them moved past the helmets, and he looked at Kate across his shoulder. "Can you stick around? I need to talk to you."

Since she was curious and wanted to know what he thought of his mother's impending wedding, she decided she could "stick around" for a few minutes. "Sure." While she waited, she cruised the store, looking at everything from one-man tents to fly-tying equipment. In one aisle, she pulled on some fingerless gloves and looked at Road Dog headbands and bandanas. She took off the gloves and moved to the checkout counter, where she tried on Oakley sunglasses.