Currant Creek Valley by RaeAnne Thayne Read Free Book Online Page A

after a long night at the restaurant. The only problem was, during the off-season, the after-hours nightlife in Hope’s Crossing was basically nonexistent, other than a few fast-food joints that stayed open 24/7.
    She could always call it a night but she selfishly didn’t want to. She liked Sam. The way he moved, the way he smelled, the way he played pool. It had been a long time since she had met someone so intriguing.
    “How do you feel about taking a little walk?” she asked on impulse.
    He blinked at her, cue in hand. “Now? It’s past eleven. The whole town is closed down, in case you didn’t notice.”
    “Why not? It’s a beautiful evening. These kind of mild spring nights are something of a miracle here in the high mountains.”
    Don’t say no, she thought. The idea of going back to her house by herself tonight depressed her more than it should. Not that she had any intention of taking Sam there, but she definitely wanted to spend a little more time with him. This was a nice compromise.
    “We don’t have to,” she added. “I only thought maybe you might like a quick guided tour of Hope’s Crossing, being new in town and all.”
    He leaned a hip against the edge of the pool table, all those rangy ex-army muscles in delectable view.
    Maybe inviting him out for a walk wasn’t the smartest idea she’d ever had, when she had to keep reminding herself he was the contractor at the restaurant and she couldn’t afford to mess things up now that her dream was within reach.
    “A walk could be...interesting.”
    “Great. Let’s go.” She ignored the flurry of nerves in her stomach as they hung up the cues and settled their tab with Pat at the bar.
    He helped her into her jacket and then pulled on his own—a soft, thin leather jacket that made her think of motorcycles and bad boys—and then they walked out into the sweetly scented spring night.

CHAPTER FOUR
    T HE NIGHT WAS RELATIVELY WARM for mid-April with a southerly breeze that smelled moist and earthy. She wouldn’t be surprised if Hope’s Crossing saw rain before daybreak, the kind of sweet and cleansing storm that blew through quickly and left everything fresh and clean, saturated with color.
    She loved walking on these kinds of nights, when the rest of the world seemed huddled in for the dark hours but she was alone with the rustling music of the breeze in new leaves.
    Except this time she wasn’t alone. She was accompanied by a big, tough-looking man who had secrets she hadn’t begun to guess.
    “Let’s walk up to the fire station and I’ll give you the high points of Main Street along the way.”
    “You’re the tour guide.” He flashed a lopsided smile, looking sexy and almost rakish, and she had to remind her hormones to settle down.
    She adopted a deliberately casual tone, her best officious voice. Maybe if the restaurant thing didn’t work out, she could get a job at the tourist welcome center. “You probably already know this but Hope’s Crossing was once a wild and woolly mining town, with more brothels and saloons than houses.”
    “I’d heard that, yes. Tell me this. Don’t you think it’s odd that even with that sort of start, the town was still named a sweet, flowery name like Hope’s Crossing instead of, oh, I don’t know. Something like Hell’s Armpit.”
    She laughed. “While both names are equally appealing, of course, I’m guessing Hope’s Crossing might be a bit more of a tourist draw than anything with the word armpit in it. But what do I know?”
    His smile gleamed in the night and she fought down another shiver of awareness.
    “My friend Claire is a lot better at recounting history, but from what I understand, the miners originally called the town Silver Strike after the first mine to produce anything worthwhile up in the canyon. One of the mine owners, Silas Van Duran, happened to fall in love with the only schoolteacher in town, a woman named Hope Goodwin. When it came time to officially name the town, he