Lips That Touch Mine by Wendy Lindstrom

her.
    She lifted her chin, irritated that her plan
to annoy him had fallen through. "We're just getting started, Mr.
Grayson. We'll be back tomorrow." She turned away from his knowing
grin and ran straight into Desmona.
    "Oh! Mrs. Edwards!" She caught Desmona's arm
and steadied the old lady. "I'm so sorry."
    "No harm done." Desmona shooed her daughters
ahead of her, then cautiously planted her walking stick as she
picked her way down the rutted street. "Your grandmother was an
interesting lady," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't know her
better."
    Claire's stomach tightened, her mind
scrambling for a way to yank this bone from Desmona's teeth without
provoking the woman. "Grandma was a grand storyteller. She filled
my ears with stories about knights and princes and ordinary men who
would move heaven and earth for their lady love. Her journal is
filled with dozens of story ideas. I appreciate them because I grew
up with her tales, but I doubt you would find the journal all that
interesting."
    "On the contrary. I was intrigued by her
diary from the very first sentence."
    Heat rushed up Claire's neck. Desmona didn't
believe a word of her explanation. This old woman might look frail,
but she smelled scandal, and wouldn't stop digging until her
curiosity was satisfied.
    "Do you think Mr. Harrison will stop selling
liquor in his hotel?" she asked, deciding that an abrupt change of
subject would effectively show Mrs. Edwards that she had no
business asking questions about the diary.
    "I presume so," Desmona said, watching her
footing as she walked beside Claire. "If he's set on getting the
deputy sheriff's position, his conscience will force him to
stop."
    "Does this mean that Sheriff Grayson will
take our pledge, too?"
    Desmona shook her head, making the tiny beads
on her gray velour bonnet tremble. "He already holds the position
of sheriff with little fear of losing it."
    "Why should the sheriff be an exception?"
Claire asked. "He should be one of the men setting an example for
this town."
    "He does. The Grayson boys are highly
regarded by our menfolk. Each year those boys contribute a goodly
amount of lumber for our local charity projects. The oldest boy,
Radford, is a war hero. Kyle is a respected businessman who employs
several of our townsmen. Sheriff Grayson does a fine job of keeping
our town safe. He may visit the saloons on occasion, but he doesn't
cause trouble or sell liquor. "
    "His younger brother does. In that rum hole
across the street from my home."
    "A shame it is, too," Desmona said, huffing
as they crossed the Common toward the church. "That boy is wasting
his life in that saloon. "
    Claire couldn't agree more.
    "I suppose he comes by it naturally though,"
Desmona said. "His father was tall and handsome and full of charm.
Hal Grayson was a rascal, if an incredibly talented young man. My
Addison wanted to hire him to build furniture for our store. I'd
hoped the boy would take a shine to one of my girls, but Hal had
other plans. He started up a sawmill and set his sights on Nancy
Tremont. They had four boys who inherited his good looks and her
energy. Boyd got Hal's talent and wild nature." Desmona stopped at
the entrance to the church. "And that young man is as obstinate as
his father was, and he isn't going to close his saloon just because
we ask him to."
    Claire's shoulders sagged. She'd sensed that
Boyd wasn't a man who could be told what to do. He wasn't the sort
of man who would bow to pressure from his neighbors. He seemed to
be everything Desmona called him: obstinate, talented, and wild—an
incredibly handsome man who was used to getting what he wanted. He
was from a respectable family and had the protection of the
sheriff.
    How was she going to fight that?
     
     

Chapter Five
    Boyd ordered a
round of drinks for Duke and Kyle, who were sitting at the bar
smoking cigars to celebrate the birth of Kyle's first child.
    "You look like hell," Boyd said.
    Kyle passed him a cigar. "I
feel
like hell."
    Boyd anchored