Chapter 17 #2
And if he didn't? If he refused to listen or give her what she deserved, would she need a lawyer?
The thought made her stomach knot.
Rubbing a hand across the back of her neck, she stood and grabbed her purse.
She needed a better plan than the one she'd arrived with.
The woman who'd driven into Hazard Falls no longer existed.
Or maybe she'd simply remembered who she really was.
But had she already set too much in motion to turn back?
Outside, the sun had climbed higher while she'd been inside, warmth already radiating off the sidewalk. She climbed into her truck and pulled away from the curb, letting herself wander without a destination.
Banners stretched across Main Street, while storefront windows displayed posters announcing the upcoming Rodeo Bonanza.
Lou had told her that it usually took place the last weekend in June, but a scheduling conflict on the state rodeo circuit had moved it to the third weekend in July this year.
From everything Shylo had heard, the Bonanza drew competitors and visitors from all over the region every summer.
Bar None would have a vendor booth selling beer and its fan-favorite chili, and Lou had already told her she could have all the overtime she wanted that weekend—if she was still in Hazard Falls by then.
A Victorian house caught her attention. It stood apart from the rest of Main Street, meticulously maintained with fresh paint, manicured landscaping, and tall windows that looked better suited to a larger city than a small Kansas town.
A decorative sign near the walkway identified it as the Kline Gallery.
So that was Bridget Kline's place.
Shylo turned the steering wheel toward the curb, slowed her old pickup to a stop, and stared at the house. The front door opened, and a woman stepped onto the porch. Even without an introduction, she knew exactly who she was.
Everything she'd heard about Hazard Falls' resident snob suddenly made sense—expensive clothes, perfect posture, and the kind of confidence that came from never having to wonder whether the bills would get paid.
Bridget's gaze flickered over the pickup first—the faded paint, the rust beginning to creep around the wheel wells, and a dent near the tailgate.
Then she glanced at Shylo. The assessment lasted only a second before her lip curled and she looked away.
Shylo had been dismissed.
Just like that.
The feeling was familiar enough to sour her mood. She'd seen that look before. People from the wealthier side of town had it perfected when she was growing up. One glance and they'd already decided where she belonged. Here, apparently, she was being judged because she drove an old truck.
Fine.
The woman’s opinion ranked somewhere below a flat tire on her list of concerns.
Still, as she pulled away from the curb, the dismissal bothered her more than she cared to admit. Bridget Kline hadn't said a word, yet Shylo felt like she was fifteen again, standing on the wrong side of town and being reminded exactly where she belonged—outside looking in.
A few minutes later, the storefronts gave way to open country. Shylo shoved the stuck-up bitch from her mind. She had more important things to worry about. Fields stretched toward the horizon beneath a cloudless Kansas sky, and the road unwound ahead of her in a lazy ribbon of asphalt.
Her thoughts drifted back to Shane.
She'd come to Hazard Falls expecting to find a man who would fight her for every dime. A man who'd slam the door in her face the second he learned who she was. And he still might.
But after their few encounters, she found it difficult to dislike him. He was friendly, caring, and family-oriented.
He was also a man who didn’t know a piece of his life was missing. And she was the one holding it.
The truck jerked, and her brows pulled together. “Don’t you start.”
The temperature gauge climbed. Then kept climbing before a plume of white steam suddenly billowed from beneath the hood.
“Seriously?”
Stepping on the brake pedal, she guided the vehicle to a stop on the shoulder of the road before putting it in Park and cutting the engine. Silence followed, broken only by the ticking engine and the hiss of steam.
She leaned back and blew out a hard breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Reaching down under the dashboard for the latch, she popped the hood and then climbed out of the truck. Heat rolled up at her, sharp and immediate. The smell of overheated metal assaulted her nose. “Perfect.”
After using the rags from under the seat to lift the hood without getting burned, an unwanted thought raced through her mind, and cursing, she opened the rear cab door.
There, she found the water jugs, still sitting empty where she'd left them after the last breakdown. She’d meant to pick up some coolant, as Seth had suggested, or at least refill the jugs, but with everything else going on, it had slipped her mind.
With her hands on her hips, she glared at the engine as if that might somehow solve the problem.
It didn’t.
She glanced up and down the road. Recognition hit a second later. It was the same stretch of road where the truck had overheated on her way into Hazard Falls that first day. “You've got to be kidding me.”
Pulling out her phone, she checked for a signal.
Nothing. Not a single bar. Again.
Apparently, the cell service out there was as reliable as her pickup.
Shit!
Between the empty jugs and her inability to make a call, there wasn't much she could do except wait for the engine to cool and hope somebody came along.
Time dragged, and sweat rolled off her forehead.
Then, faint at first, the sound of another engine carried down the road. She straightened, turning toward it. A black pickup came into view from around the curve, slowing as it approached before pulling in behind her. Dust kicked up around the tires.
The driver’s door opened, and when Shane stepped out, her stomach sank.
Of course it was him. For one ridiculous second, she considered ducking behind the hood and pretending she wasn't there.
Then common sense prevailed. The man had already seen both her and the plume of steam rising from the truck.
He strode toward her. “Overheated?”
She huffed out a breath. “That obvious?”
His mouth tipped slightly. “Usually is.”
Despite the situation, she laughed, then rolled her eyes. “I forgot to refill the water jugs and thought I had more time.”
“And the truck disagreed.”
“Clearly.”
Heat shimmered around them. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called, and another answered. Aside from that, the world felt oddly still.
Shane gestured toward his vehicle. “I've got some coolant. Let it cool down, then we'll top it off.”
She blinked. “You just carry that around?”
“Out here? You learn to keep your truck stocked with the basics. Never know what you’ll need and when.”
Maybe that was another difference between them. Shane seemed like a man who anticipated problems and prepared for them. Shylo's experience had been the opposite. Life usually threw problems at her first and then forced her to figure them out after the fact.
He strode back to his truck and retrieved a container from the bed before setting it beside hers. “The engine is gonna need a bit more time to cool. You can stand out here if you want, but my truck's running, and the air conditioning works great.”
Shylo glanced toward the cloudless sky. The sun beat down without mercy, and the heat radiating from her engine didn’t help matters.
“I'm not turning down a seat in air conditioning.”
“Smart choice.”
When they reached his truck, he opened the passenger door for her, and the blast of cool air that greeted her felt downright heavenly.
She climbed up, sank into the seat, and closed her eyes for a second. The truck smelled faintly of leather, dust, and whatever cologne Shane wore. Something clean and masculine, but not overpowering.
By the time he got behind the wheel, some of the tension over her truck eased. What remained came from sitting beside a man who had no idea she was his sister.
He rested an arm on the center console and pointed toward her truck. “I think that thing's trying to tell you something.”
“That it's old?”
“That it's thirsty.”
She laughed, and the sound surprised her almost as much as it seemed to surprise him.
“I appreciate you stopping.”
One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “That's what folks around here do. We help each other.”
Not knowing how to respond to that, Shylo stared out the windshield. When her truck overheated the first time, Seth had pulled over to help. Today, Shane had done the same thing. Neither man had hesitated.
Back home, she wasn't sure the same would've happened.
Everything she'd seen since arriving in Hazard Falls painted the same picture. People looked out for one another here. They showed up when they were needed.