Chapter 4
Chapter Four
C ollins Lafferty had gone and screwed things up. How could she have miscalculated so badly? She sat under a tree about a hundred feet from the house and glumly stared up through the branches. The large Gucci sunglasses kept her eyes shaded, so she was able to watch a small swallow hop from branch to branch. It looked as anxious as she felt.
With a sigh, she pulled her cell from her pocket and stared down at the phone. There were several messages from her agent. One with an expletive and instructions to call her back immediately. There was a message from Bridget, her oldest and best friend. Collins read it over quickly but wasn’t in the mood to respond. Bridget was the only one on the planet save for her brother Kip, who knew about Benton. They’d both romanticized this stunt for weeks now, and she didn’t have the heart to tell Bridget she’d screwed up.
His rejection stung, no way around it, and she was deflated. Collins was not used to feeling this way.
“What am I going to do?” she muttered, eyes on the house. The sounds of the party were in full swing, but no way could she go back there. Not after throwing herself at a man who wanted nothing to do with her.
“So he says,” she whispered, thinking of the heat between them. Remembering his touch and taste.
Then she remembered his scowl and the nasty words he’d slung at her, and she began to burn. Not from the sun, but because she was so damn angry. At herself. At Benton. At the damn world. Not to be a conceited piece of work, but Collins knew she could literally have any man she wanted. So why did God think it fair to let her fall in love with the one man on the planet who seemed to have no interest in her?
Ugh. She kicked out her foot and stubbed her toe on a root, then, restless, got to her feet. Maybe she would head to town. Go back to the Sundowner and find a hot cowboy to take off the edge. A guy who’d make her forget her night with Benton Bridgestone.
A half smile touched her face. Banish the cowboy by using another.
Always an impulse junkie (probably the reason she was in this pickle) Collins headed for the truck. She sent her brother a text. Told him she was headed back to town and she’d catch up with him later. She knew he’d end up at Ivy and Mike Paul’s place, so she wasn’t worried that she was stranding him or anything. Luckily, it was parked off to the side, and with no one blocking her in, she was able to escape without notice.
There was a small bed and breakfast in Big Bend, Duffer’s Place. She’d scouted it out earlier and, after a quick call, was able to secure the last available room. The GPS led her to the other side of town, and she parked in front of a quaint two-story home, complete with a wraparound porch and two big old trees out front. One of them had a swing strung from its largest branch. There were overflowing flower boxes on each side of the porch steps, and she had to maneuver around a large orange tabby as she climbed them. The cat pawed at her playfully, so she bent down and gave it a scratch before she stepped over him.
A tag hung from his collar, Lion, and it made her smile. That’s something she supposed. Collins hiked her weekender bag over her shoulder and crossed the wide, deep porch. A sign said, Come On In. She did just that and took a moment to look around. The foyer was cute, with delicate wallpaper, pink roses and vines, and chestnut wainscoting to match the original hardwood floors. There was a vase of wildflowers on the desk, and the smell of lemon oil in the air. No one manned the desk, but she spied a small bell and rang it. Didn’t take long for someone to appear. An older lady with snow white hair that fell in long waves down her back, and the kind of easy smile that made Collins feel at home. She wore an apron and was dusting off her hands.
“Miss Lafferty?”
Collins nodded.
The woman walked to the counter and accepted Collins’ credit card.
“I’m Wilhemenia Duffer, the owner, but you can call me Willie.” She winked. “Everyone else does.”
Her voice was soft. Lyrical. With a slow, Southern drawl that didn’t belong in Montana.
“I’m from Alabama,” Willie said, writing Collins’ name in a large book. Seemed as if technology wasn’t king around these parts. She handed over a key.
“And apparently a mind reader.” Collins smiled. “How long have you been in Big Bend?”
“Longer than it feels like, that’s for sure.” Her eyes softened even more. “I fell in love with a cowboy the year I turned twenty-one. I was visiting a cousin, and we went to a rodeo, and that was that. I’ve been here ever since. Stayed on, even after he passed when I was only twenty-six.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I had five wonderful years with the love of my life, and he gave me two children who mean the world to me. Fate brought me here, but it was love that kept me.” Willie walked out from behind the desk and pointed to the staircase. “Your room is the last one on the left side. It’s the biggest and you have your own bathroom. We serve breakfast and a light lunch, but dinner is something you’ll have to find elsewhere. If you need anything and I’m not here, I live in the little bungalow next door.” She was quiet for a few moments, a thoughtful expression on her face. “If you don’t mind my asking. You look familiar. Am I wrong in thinking that?”
“I model, so maybe you’ve seen some of my campaigns.”
Willie’s eyes widened. “That’s it. My granddaughter, Elvie, stayed with me for a week and she all these magazines she kept pouring over. I’ve seen you among those pages.” She paused. “Are you working here in Montana?”
Collins considered sidestepping the question, but then thought, what’s the point? “No. My brother is visiting a friend, and I tagged along.”
“Enjoy the beauty. Montana is big sky country. It’s always nice to welcome a new visitor to our corner of the earth. If you have any questions, feel free to come find me. I’ll be in the kitchen preparing for tomorrow’s lunch.”
Collins thanked the woman and headed upstairs. There were four doors, and she found hers easily. The room had a beauty and softness she liked, with a pink and baby-blue gingham comforter spread across the four-poster bed, creamy diaphanous curtains that fell to the floor, and a beautiful area rug in pastels. Like the dresser and full-length mirror, it looked like an antique. The bathroom boasted a large tub with claws for feet as well as a standalone shower. She eyed the tub longingly but didn’t have time.
She quickly stripped and took a shower, then towel dried her hair, left it damp and curling wildly, and pulled on a pair of jeans, boots, and an off white halter top that left her back completely bare. She took her time with her makeup—smoky eyes and big glossy lips—then stepped back for a good look.
She studied the reflection in a clinical sort of way. Angled her head for a better look. The face was one she knew well. Heck, she’d been staring at it for twenty-five years. She was what most folks would call striking. Beautiful. Her cheekbones and nose, and generous mouth were made for the camera. Her hair was thick and shiny, her body long and lean with curves where they needed to be. These were facts. Something she accepted, just like she knew the sun rose in the east and set in the west. But Collins knew beauty faded, and though most folks would think she was lying, she’d never paid much attention to any of it. Most of the time, she wore no makeup, her hair was up in a bun, and her clothes were oversized and baggy.
The world she lived and worked in was plastic. Everything was transactional. She posed for a campaign and was paid an ungodly amount to do so. The company made money off her looks, and everyone was happy. But outside of work, she wasn’t that girl. She was just…Collins. A book nerd who loved to read romance novels. A woman who could quote nearly every episode of the Gilmore Girls or The Lord of the Rings movies. She liked to watch Criminal Minds reruns and had seen Downton Abbey in its entirety at least three times.
But tonight she wanted to look good, because her confidence was in the toilet. And just like any other woman her age, who’d been bruised and needed an ego boost, she was dressed to kill, so to speak.
Her cell pinged. She scooped it up, then made a face.
Kip: Where are you exactly
Collins: Heading to the Sundowner
Kip: Why
Collins fingered the keyboard, trying to compose the kind of answer that wasn’t an outright lie, but one that would satisfy her brother. But there wasn’t one. She blew out a long breath and quickly typed a response.
Collins: I’ll see you at Ivy’s tomorrow
She put her phone on mute and shoved it into her back pocket, then grabbed the truck key and headed outside.
Montana in July was hot, but the evenings were cooler, and she shivered a bit as she hopped out of the truck. She’d found a spot at the edge of the lot, which was nearly full, and spied a group of revelers heading inside. Two men and two women, dressed in jeans, T-shirts and cowboy boots. Double dating Montana style. It was a Saturday night, and in a town like this, there wasn’t much to do besides hitting up the local watering hole to drink and dance until your feet fell off.
Music echoed from inside, and the crowd was singing along to the band. She took a moment to listen and nodded slowly. They were good. This night might not be a total waste after all. Collins walked across the lot and pushed inside, immediately getting a blast of heat, beer, and grease. Every honkytonk she’d been in smelled the same, and a sliver of excitement rolled down her spine.
The dance floor was full, folks were line dancing to a pop song that had been given a country makeover. She hummed along and made her way over to the bar, smiling when she spied the bartender from earlier that day.
“Long shift,” she said, ignoring the blatant interest from a group of folks as she slid up to the bar with a smile. Jo, who was in the process of filling a jug of beer, gave a nod and shook her head. “New hire called in sick and Millie Sue is at a party, so here I am trying to keep up.”
“Want some help?” The words fell from her mouth before she could think about them. But the bar area was three bodies deep from one end to the other, and Jo couldn’t possibly serve them all.
“Have you worked in a bar before?”
“No,” Collins replied with a smile. “But I’ve been slinging beer and making cocktails since I was seven. My family hosted a lot of parties, so I’ve had a lot of practice.”
Jo handed over the jug and four glasses to a group of men and then slowly nodded. “I’m probably crazy for doing this, but let’s see what you got.”
Collin’s elbowed her way around the edge of the bar and ducked underneath the counter.
“You take this end, I’ll manage the rest. I’m logged into the system. You just hit here for a new order, then choose your poison. Beer. Liquor. Draft is small or large, or a jug. If anyone wants to order food, tell them to find Danny or one of the other servers. We don’t have time to deal with that, and we have no wine, so…” Jo stood back. “You got this?”
“Hell yes.” Collins turned and smiled at the group of men waiting to order. The one in front, a tall guy with dark wavy hair that fell to impressive shoulders, the kind of smile that told Collins he was used to getting his way when it came to the ladies, leaned forward and winked.
“Hey, darlin’. Never seen you before. Maybe I can show you around when your shift is over.” His eyes did a slow roll down her body.
“I’m not your darlin’ and I’m not interested in a tour, so maybe give me your order and you can go find someone that line will work on.”
“Jesus, Dillon, I ain’t seen anyone shoot you down that fast since Paula Becks kneed you in the nuts at prom.”
Collins laughed as the men ribbed their pal and ordered two jugs of beer. She grabbed the jugs and began to fill them, eyes on the crowd. This is what she needed. A distraction that wouldn’t make her feel like shit in the morning. And maybe if luck would shine her way, she’d be able to forget about Benton Bridgestone. Even if it was only for the night. A girl could wish, couldn’t she?
Collins smiled at the next couple in line. “What can I get ya?”