Chapter Ten
Cole pushed through the door, boots thudding against the floor.
He hung his Stetson on the peg and sank onto the bench, the smell of hay and horses still clinging to him.
That mare had tested every muscle in his arms today, rearing and stamping like defiance was her religion.
He’d broken through worse, but not by much.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he muttered, toeing off his boots.
He stripped in the laundry room, his jeans landing short of the hamper in a dusty heap. He gathered them up and shoved them in. “Time to do laundry, Harrison.” Ollie was stretched out on the rug by the hearth, tail thumping once in greeting without any intention of moving.
Cole grinned. “Don’t blame you.” He scratched the dog’s ears and headed for the shower.
Clean and refreshed, he dropped into his recliner and reached for the remote, then stopped. He needed to call Aftyn first.
She picked up on the second ring.
“Hey. How was your day?”
“Peterson found her.” Her voice was steady. “She’s working at the liquor store. Ten to six.”
“So now what?”
“He’s watching her. She’s staying at the motel. With my ex.”
“Keep your distance until you have a vehicle, just in case she bolts when you confront her. When do you think you’ll get one?”
“Aunt Ping said pick something out and she’ll send the check. Paying cash.”
“Impressive. Need help looking?”
“I’d love that.”
“Saturday morning? There are three dealerships nearby.”
“Perfect. Nothing fancy, just something reliable. A few years old, clean history.”
“They’re solid places. We’ll find you something good.”
“You’re still coming for dinner Friday?”
“Count on it.”
“Good. You can stay over and we’ll head out early Saturday.”
“I’d rather not leave Ollie alone overnight.”
“Bring him. I’m sure Connie won’t mind.”
“Alright. See you Friday at six.” He smiled. “Goodnight, darlin’.”
“Goodnight.” She hung up.
Cole set the phone on the armrest and flipped through channels, letting the glow wash over him until his eyes grew heavy. He clicked off the TV and headed down the hall, ready to face whatever that stubborn mare had in store for him tomorrow.
****
Friday morning, Aftyn’s arms ached as she set steaming plates on the counter. The bell above the door jangled and she huffed out a sigh that blew a strand of hair from her face.
“I heard that,” said Mr. Barton, his weathered face crinkling.
Aftyn laughed. “Not much gets past you.”
“I don’t know how you all do it. Running around like chickens with their heads cut off.”
“I feel like one this morning.” She wiped her palms on her apron.
“It’s harvest time. Men need their bellies full before they work their asses off.”
“That they do. I’ll be right back with your breakfast.”
“I’ll be right here, honey.”
She smiled and turned toward the kitchen when the bell chimed again. She glanced back over her shoulder, and the breath left her body. She ducked into the kitchen before they could see her.
Connie and Owen both looked up, spatulas paused.
“You alright, hon?”
“My sister and ex-husband just walked in.” Aftyn pressed her trembling hands together.
Connie moved to the passthrough and squinted through the steam. “Yep, that’s her.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “You stay put. I’ll take care of them.”
“I have customers, Connie.”
“We’ll cover them. She can’t know you’re here.”
Aftyn nodded and sank onto the kitchen stool, watching through the narrow window as Connie made her way to Avery and Judd.
“Breathe,” Owen said quietly beside her.
“I’m trying.”
The door opened again and Peterson walked in. He scanned the room, settled onto a counter stool a few seats down from the couple, and picked up a menu. They were too absorbed in each other to notice him.
Aftyn sat on her hands to keep from going out there. She wanted to confront them, but not here. Not in Connie’s diner. Nobody deserved to witness that, least of all the people who’d been kind to her since the day she arrived.
She pulled out her phone and texted Cole. She needed something to hold onto.
****
Cole stood at the rail watching Landon try to stay on the mare, but she had other ideas. His phone vibrated and he pulled it out, saw Aftyn’s name, and smiled. Then he read the message and his blood ran cold.
My sister and ex are here in the diner. I’m hiding in the kitchen.
Do not confront them. Please.
I won’t. Not here. I wouldn’t want to upset Connie and Owen.
You should go home.
I can’t. I won’t leave Connie shorthanded. I’ll wait them out.
Did you call Slick? He grinned, knowing it would make her laugh.
A laughing emoji came back. He’s here. Not sure what he can do though.
Watch them. Isn’t she supposed to be at work?
Connie says they only ordered coffee. She must be on a break. The asshat took her out for coffee.
Cole chuckled. What a guy. Do you need me to come?
Not at all. She won’t be long. I’ll see you tonight.
Can’t wait. Call if you need me.
I will.
He shoved the phone back into his pocket and folded his arms on the top rail just in time to watch Landon hit the sawdust with a sickening thud. Every man around the corral winced.
“Landon! You alright?”
“Yep.” Landon grimaced, hauling himself upright. “She ain’t gonna stop me.” He limped back to the mare, grabbed the saddle horn, and pulled himself up, only to arc through the air and crash down again in a fresh billow of dust.
Cole’s lower back twinged in sympathy watching Landon go down again. Thank God those days were behind him. He had good men, though. From breaking horses to tending the fields, they gave him everything they had from dawn to dusk, and he made sure they were paid well for it.
“I’ll be in the office,” he called. “Paperwork and calls. You know where to find me.”
He strode to the house, wiped his boots on the mat, and stepped into the warm kitchen.
The weather had turned hard in just a few days.
Yesterday a T-shirt was enough. Today a knife-edge wind cut through layers and made a sheepskin coat feel thin.
Nothing new. Montana liked to tease you with warmth and then snatch it back.
Anyone who’d grown up here knew the temperature could drop twenty degrees overnight, turning breath to fog and puddles to ice.
He worked through the afternoon, shadows stretching across his cluttered desk, wondering how Aftyn had fared after her sister showed up. He’d find out soon enough.
After his shower and a quick shave, he loaded Ollie into the truck and drove to town, hoping to stop at Katie’s Florist before it closed. The darkened windows and the crooked closed sign told him he’d missed it.
“Damn it.”
He pulled back onto Main Street and spotted the bakery, golden light spilling onto the sidewalk.
He parked, stepped into the biting evening air, and pushed through the door.
A line stretched toward the display case, so he pulled a number from the dispenser and settled into one of the small café tables, breathing in butter and sugar while he waited.
****
Aftyn sighed as she opened the oven door, a wave of savory heat escaping.
The meatloaf was ready, edges caramelized to perfection, but she couldn’t care less about the food right now.
She wanted the man. Cole had come to mean so much to her in such a short time, and she knew it couldn’t go anywhere.
He didn’t trust women, and she understood that bone deep feeling.
But even after everything Judd had put her through, she still wanted love again someday.
It just couldn’t be with Cole. His ex had left nothing but jagged edges.
A firm knock made her jump. She pressed a hand to her heart, smoothed her blue T-shirt over her jeans, took a breath, and walked to the door on unsteady legs.
Through the peephole she saw him, broad shoulders hunched against the biting wind.
She unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Cole stepped inside, Ollie pushing past him, and kissed her with surprising tenderness before handing her a crisp white bag sealed with a gold sticker.
“For you.”
She opened it and inhaled. Cocoa and sugar. Her mouth watered instantly. “I love chocolate.”
“Chocolate covered cherries.”
“I’m saving these for dessert.” She set the bag on the counter and crouched to pet Ollie. “Hi, sweetie. You’re freezing.”
“Welcome to Montana.” Cole grinned, the dimple showing in his left cheek as he hung his sheepskin coat and hat on the rack. “Damn, something smells good.”
“It’s the meatloaf,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I didn’t mean the food.” He pulled her into his arms, warm and unhurried.
“I meant you.” He lowered his lips to hers and she slid her arms around his waist, feeling the warmth of him through his soft cotton shirt.
He groaned and pulled her closer, his aftershave wrapping around her.
When he lifted his lips she missed them already.
The oven timer shrieked. They sprang apart and laughed.
“Sit down and I’ll get the food. We can eat on the sofa; I don’t have a table.”
“I can help.”
“I’ve got it. Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He kissed her forehead, lips lingering a beat, then settled onto the sofa with Ollie padding after him.
She shook her head, smiling, and carried out two plates, steam rising from the meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Cole got to his feet as she approached, took one from her, waited for her to sit, then settled beside her, their knees touching.
He cut a piece of the meatloaf, chewed, and groaned. “Damn, that’s good.”
“Aunt Ping’s recipe.”