скачать книгу бесплатно
“You can always order online from whatever fancy place you shop,” he said and got out, letting Sadie follow behind him. She quirked a brow, and he wondered if this morning’s tutoring session was making him snappy. Once again, it hadn’t gone well.
“I just thought I’d get him some clothes to play in while we’re here.”
“Kade won’t mind if Johnny keeps the ones we borrowed yesterday. Plenty more you can have.”
She didn’t say anything, but he could just imagine how pissed her father would be to know his grandson was wearing old hand-me-downs.
Wyatt opened the door to the general store and held it for her, and she walked by him at a fast pace, her heels clacking on the wood floor. “You might wanna look at getting some play clothes for yourself,” he murmured.
Marge walked up to them just then. She was a staple in town and ran a tight ship, but she had the biggest heart ever. Maybe that was why she and his mother had been best friends. “Marge, this is Francine Wentworth, from New York City. She needs some jeans and stuff. Maybe even a horse blanket, too.”
Francine rolled her eyes at him as she shook Marge’s hand. “Hi, Marge. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Welcome to our town, Francine.” Marge leaned in to hug him. “’Bout time you came to see me, Wyatt.” She grabbed a handful of his hair. “You need a haircut.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. Almost thirty years old and she could still make him feel like a rebellious twelve-year-old.
“Come on, Francine. I’ll show you around,” Marge said.
He stayed put a minute, watching Marge and Frankie interact. They’d just met yet were already talking like old friends, even if they were polar opposites. Marge, with her curly silver hair and reading glasses hung around her neck, old jeans and a pressed shirt. Frankie and her perfectly done blond hair and makeup, fancy coat and black suit.
He looked around the store, the merchandise. Another place in town that hadn’t changed over time. It always smelled the same in the general store—coffee, mothballs, penny candy, a wood-burning fire and new denim. Most days a group of older men sat by the stove and played checkers and gossiped.
He craned his neck to see the back of the store. Yup, three of them were back there, already in place. He winced—he’d have to pass them to get to what he needed. He and his friends had probably pranked—or worse—all of them at least once in his troubled youth.
He’d been to town a handful of times since coming home, tried to avoid locals when he did. No sense putting it off. He headed toward the kitchen supplies, and as he approached the checkers players, they all stopped talking. Wyatt nodded at them but didn’t stop. As soon as he passed them, they started talking again, this time in whispers.
The price you paid for being a teen rebel in a small town.
He looked around to see where Francine was and saw Marge had shown her to the shelves full of folded jeans. They were still chatting, which surprised him. What would a big-city woman have to talk about that much with someone she’d just met in a small town in Montana?
He studied Francine, noting how her face lit up when she laughed. She seemed much more relaxed now. More like the Frankie he called her in his head.
Picking up the rest of the items he needed for the ranch, he then headed for the hat section. He picked one out for Johnny that matched his own.
He set it on the counter with his other items as Marge set down a stack of clothes for Francine. He noticed there were some women’s jeans and shirts, even a hat and boots.
“Oh! I forgot a hat for John Allen,” Frankie said, starting to walk away.
“I got him one,” he said, pulling his wallet out.
She walked back to the counter and took it from his stack and laid it on hers. “Thanks.”
He pulled it back. “I said, I got it.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I want to.”
She glanced at the price tag, and bit her lip. “It’s kind of pricey for such a small hat.”
A bitter taste coated his tongue, and his lip curled up. “I can afford it. I’m not the poor ranch hand your dad accuses me of being. I had fun with Johnny, and I want to get this for him. He’s a great kid.”
She held her hands up. “That’s not what I meant at all. Sorry if I offended you... That’s sweet of you. I know he’ll love it.”
They finished their transactions, and as they left the store, Wyatt’s stomach growled. He stowed their packages in the back seat of the truck, then closed his door. “You want breakfast?”
“No, thanks. But I will have some coffee.”
They entered the diner next door, and Sadie followed them in.
Frankie looked at him. “Are dogs allowed in the diner?”
He waved at one of the waitresses, then opened a screen door to another room. Sadie trotted in and immediately lay on one of the dog beds. “So many people bring their dogs to town, they have this room set up with food and water bowls and stuff.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Very progressive for such a small town.”
“We’re not Podunkville,” he bit out. “Just makes it easier for dog owners, and we don’t have to leave them in vehicles.”
“That’s not what I—Never mind. Forget I said anything.” She huffed.
They sat in a back booth, and Patsy, their waitress, stopped by for their order. “Coffee?” She held the pot up.
Francine nodded. “Please.”
Patsy filled her cup, then turned to Wyatt. “You want the usual, honey?” she asked, filling his mug.
“Hey, Patsy. Yeah, thanks.” He pushed the laminated menu across the table. “Sure you don’t want something, Frankie? They have great food.”
She smiled at Patsy. “No, thank you, I never eat breakfast. Just black coffee.” She watched Patsy walk away, then looked at him. “You’re not going to quit with the Frankie, are you?”
“Hasn’t anyone ever called you that before?”
She shook her head. “Not even in school or on the playground.”
“Francine just seems too formal for you when you’re relaxed, laughing with Marge.” He paused, took a sip of hot coffee. “Or covered in mud.”
Her cheeks colored prettily, and her nose wrinkled.
“I’ll stop calling you that.”
She held up her hand. “No, it’s okay. I kind of like it. Reminds me I need to relax more often. Just promise you won’t do it in front of my colleagues.”
Patsy returned and set his food down and refilled their coffees. His mouth watered when he saw she’d included one of the diner’s famous cinnamon rolls.
He picked up his fork and glanced at Frankie.
“That roll is as big as my hand.” She held her hand over the cinnamon roll. “Correction, it’s as big as your hand.”
“Yeah, and awesome.” Even as he said it, she licked her lips, and he wanted to be the one to make her do that. Not a cinnamon roll. He cut a piece off and handed her his fork. “Just try it. One bite won’t kill you.”
She took the fork and slid it between her lips. Her eyes closed as she chewed. “That is the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.”
He picked up her unopened bunch of silverware and took the napkin off. “Go on, have some more. I’ve got plenty here.” He’d just taken a bite of eggs when she snatched a piece of bacon off his plate and ate it in no time.
“I thought you don’t eat breakfast.”
Red stole across her cheeks, and she looked sheepish. “Must be this mountain air. I’m actually hungry today. And I haven’t had bacon in years.”
He grinned, gestured to Patsy for another order, and slid his plate across the table to Frankie. “Well, don’t deprive yourself anymore. Dig in.”
They ate in near silence, and it surprised him that it was not an uncomfortable silence.
The front door opened, and a cold wind blew in two older women. They zeroed in on Wyatt and frowned. As they passed their table, one of them harrumphed and muttered the word trouble, and he almost spit out his coffee.
Frankie leaned forward toward him. “What on earth was that about?”
“Teachers.”
“Yours?”
“Yup.”
“I take it the school years were not pleasant ones?”
They weren’t—especially with the passing of his mother. But the last thing he needed was her learning he’d never graduated. “Why?”
“Because they keep whispering to each other and looking at you. Do you want to leave?”
“Nope. It was a long time ago. Let’s just say I wasn’t the best student.”
* * *
FRANCINE PUSHED OPEN the door and walked to where Wyatt waited for her. He leaned against the side of the truck, legs crossed in front of him, thumbs in his belt loops. He seemed to be staring at something and nothing at the same time, his mind a million miles away. The hint of grief on his face really surprised her.
She hated to bring him any more grief, but the conversation she’d just had in the diner bathroom troubled her. She dreaded bringing it up to Wyatt, but she had to, for John Allen’s sake. Once they were on the way back to the ranch, she leaned forward and turned the radio down a bit.
“When I was in ladies’ room, one of those old biddy teachers followed me in.”
“And?”
“She told me to stay away from you, for my own sake. And safety.”
His face turned to stone, and he wouldn’t look at her. A muscle jumped in his cheek, and she all but heard him grinding his teeth. “That so?”
“She said you’re a troublemaker.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was a bit of a rebel in my younger days.”
“Just a bit?”
He winced. “Okay, more than a bit. I wasn’t the best student, and I had a lot of anger.”
“So you were in a gang?”
“What?”
“She said you’d been in a gang.”
“I guess from her point of view, we were a gang. I hung around with a few guys and we had motorcycles, played pranks, caused trouble around town, if you call that a gang.”
“You had a motorcycle in high school?”
He shrugged. “I did odd jobs for the mechanic in town. He let me buy an old one for cheap. Had to rebuild it from the frame up.”
“You rebuilt a motorcycle as a kid?”
“I was always good with mechanics. Better than learning anything in school,” he muttered almost under his breath, but she heard him. “Damn thing stalled more than it ran. But it was mine, and it got me off the ranch. I still have it, even though I don’t ride it much anymore.”
She steeled herself, dreading the next part, hating to pry, but she had to. “The old lady also said you’d been in jail.”
His whole body went still, and his eyes narrowed. “This is why I hate coming to town,” he muttered. “That part is true.”
Adrenaline flooded her body, and she wanted to jump out of the truck. What had she been thinking yesterday, letting her boy spend the day with a complete stranger—who had a record!
“I’ll bet she didn’t tell you that I took the rap to keep my friend safe, did she?” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“No, she didn’t. Is that what happened?”
“My friends and I were out one night. Todd had gotten hold of some booze, so we were passing the bottle around, feeling pretty good. He did something stupid and the cops were called. If his dad had found out, he’d have beaten Todd again, real bad. So I took the rap and had to spend the night in jail. The charges were dropped the next morning because someone saw what really happened and stepped forward.”
He glanced over at her, a vein jumping in his temple. She could tell how much it bothered him to talk about this. She set a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I had to ask because of my son.”
“I’d never hurt a kid,” he ground out, yanking his arm from beneath her touch. “And I don’t appreciate anyone thinking I would.”
Chapter Five (#u1cc44118-6485-5bad-9ad2-b7d83c7c4295)
Francine held John Allen’s hand as they walked toward the barbecue dinner set up outside the main lodge. The night sky was full of stars twinkling like diamonds. A perfectly beautiful sight to end a not-so-perfect day.
Her mind immediately flashed to Wyatt, and she gave a brief shake of her head. She’d had a good time with him this morning. It was the first time in a while she’d spent time with a man she didn’t work with, one who didn’t want to use her for something else—like her ex. The weasel had only married her to gain a position at her dad’s company and, apparently, to control her finances. After the divorce, Frankie had a tough time getting Robert to call John Allen or even write a birthday card.
Maybe that was why Wyatt was such a surprise. He wasn’t who she’d thought he was originally—and she liked him. Finding out about that jail stint was a shock, but she liked him more, knowing he’d done it to protect a friend.
It made him more attractive, if that was even possible.
But the drive home had been very tense. She knew she’d upset him with her questions, and she’d tried to apologize once more, but he’d brushed her off. He’d been so quiet the rest of the way back that by the time he pulled up to the lodge, she’d worried he might not stop the truck completely. But he’d been a gentleman and opened her door for her, got her packages out of the back. Then he’d sped off with Sadie, practically leaving a trail of dust behind him.
She spotted him across the patio now, talking to a small group of men. Worn denim cupped his butt, contoured to his thigh muscles. His arms were folded across his chest, biceps bulging. She appreciated the view, just like she would any other man who filled out his clothes well—at least, that was what she told herself.
