by Jennie Marts
He drove past the abandoned car and onto the dirt shoulder as he slowed to a stop beside her. “Need a ride?”
She turned, her expression wary, then her face broke into a grin, and it was like the sun shining through the clouds after a rainstorm.
“Hey Zane,” she said, already reaching for the door handle. “I sure do. I was supposed to start my shift at the diner ten minutes ago.” She lifted the dog onto the floor of the truck then blew her bangs from her damp forehead as she tossed in her backpack then settled on the bench seat and buckled herself in. “Good boy, Lucky,” she cooed to the dog, who pressed himself into the space between her leg and the door.
Which only served to draw Zane’s eyes to her legs. And the woman had great legs, already tan, and muscular and shapely from her work at the diner. Her white cross-trainers were scuffed with the red dirt from the road, and she had a smudge of dust across one ankle that Zane was tempted to reach down and brush away then let his fingers linger on her skin.
She wore a pink waitress dress, the kind that zips up the front with a white collar and a little breast pocket, and the fabric hugged her curvy figure in all the right spots. For just a moment Zane imagined pulling down that zipper—with his teeth.
Simmer down, man. He didn’t usually let himself get carried away with those kind of fantasies. But he didn’t usually have Bryn in his truck, filling his cab with the sound of her easy laughter and the scent of her skin—traces of honeysuckle and vanilla and the smell of fresh sheets off the line on a warm summer day.
“What happened to your car?” Zane asked, drawing his gaze back to the road as he eased the truck onto the highway.
“Who knows? This is the third time it’s broke down since Christmas.”
“Have you called someone about it?” Like me. Yeah, right. Why would she call him? Because they’d shared a few laughs when they’d spent some time together around the holidays? They’d only been hanging out together because they were helping Logan’s girlfriend, Harper.
He’d thought there was a spark of flirtation, but with him, a spark often turned into a flame and people usually ended up burned around him. So he’d thrown himself into the work at the ranch and tried to forget about the perky waitress with the twinkling blue eyes and vibrant laugh. But like most things, other than horses, he’d failed.
“No. What good would it do to call someone when I don’t have any money to pay them anyway? Last I checked, my bank account was holding steady at six dollars and eighty cents, and I don’t know anyone who works for that cheap.”
He shrugged. “I could take a look at it for you. And I wouldn’t charge you more than a smile.” Oh Lord, did that really just come out of his mouth? It hadn’t sounded half as dopey in his head.
“That would be very neighborly of you,” she said, ignoring his dorky comment and flashing him a brilliant grin. “And that’s a price I can afford. But you don’t have to. I know Logan’s keeping you pretty busy at the Gulch.”
Neighborly? He didn’t want to seem neighborly. He’d been trying for flirty, but his efforts apparently fell flat. Wait. How did she know Logan had been keeping him busy at the ranch? Had she asked about him? “I’ve got time,” he assured her. “I’ll stop and take a look at it when I’m done in town. See if I can spot the problem, at least.”
“That would be so great.” She ruffled the neck of the black and white dog, who had shifted in the seat to inspect the newcomers. “You picked a name for your dog yet?”
“She’s not my dog.”
Bryn rolled her eyes and let out a small chuckle. “You might not think so, but she does. Once you fed her, she was yours. And she’s been with you for months now. Every time I see your truck, she’s ridin’ shotgun. Why do you think she does that if she doesn’t consider herself yours?”
He shrugged, his tone even and dry. “She must like my winning personality.”
A laugh escaped Bryn’s lips—a sound that filled the cab of the truck, and his heart, as if a door of a dark room had been cracked and let a shaft of light in. “I’m sure that’s it,” Bryn said, still chuckling.
A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. This woman made him smile, even when she was giving him a hard time.
“How’s your dad doing?” she asked.
The smile fell from his lips. “Stubborn as ever.”
His dad’s heart attack had brought him back to town earlier that winter, and he’d planned to stay only long enough to get the old bastard back on his feet. But then Logan lost his hired hand and had offered Zane a job helping at the ranch and with the horses, and a couple of weeks had turned into a couple of months.
He’d found a sort of peace with his dad. As long as Birch took his meds and stayed off the sauce, Zane had agreed to remain in town and at the house. They mostly stayed out of each other’s way, but occasionally found themselves watching a hockey game together, especially if the Colorado Summits were playing, and Rockford James, Creedence’s hometown hero was on the ice.
But lately Zane had felt the familiar itch—the need to move on when he’d stayed in one place too long. An itch that was exacerbated by the blonde waitress who was taking up space in his mind and under his skin. An itch he had no business trying to scratch.
“He seems to be doing better lately,” he told Bryn. “So I’ll probably take off pretty soon. My old boss has been harping on me to come back to Montana. She took in a new herd of wild stallions and needs someone to break them.”
“Oh,” Bryn said, the word a soft breath on her lips. “I didn’t realize you were thinking about leaving. When are you going to go?”
He murmured something noncommittal and lifted his shoulders in a dismissive shrug as he pulled into the parking lot of the diner and parked in the shade of giant elm tree. He got out but left the windows down for the dog. In this town, nobody locked their doors, and the dog hadn’t jumped out of the truck yet, despite him giving her plenty of opportunities.
A dirty black pickup with out of state plates and a rusty horse trailer hooked to its bumper sat parked in front of the diner. The horse inside stamped and whinnied as Zane and Bryn approached the door. It butted its head against the side of the trailer, and peered out at them with a frightened brown eye that was crusted and leaky with infected goop.
“Whoa there, it’s all right,” Zane assured it, his voice steady and calm as they drew closer.
“Oh no, can you see its eye?” Bryn asked. “Poor thing.”
“It’s no wonder it’s infected. This trailer is disgusting,” he said, peering in at the mess of manure and sparse bits of hay. It looked like the horse had been trampling in its own waste for days.
“It doesn’t look like they’ve cleaned this trailer out ever.” Bryn pulled her head back to avoid the foul smell. “And that trailer has got to be baking hot.” The horse’s back was streaked with sweat and dust.
Bile rose in his throat, and Zane clamped his teeth together as his hands tightened into fists. He hated to see animals being abused. Especially when they didn’t get the chance to turn old enough and strong enough to fight back. “I’d like to see the owner of this truck spend a day cooped up in there.” Zane was tempted to loosen the latch as he walked by and let the horse free.
“I agree.” Bryn lifted her hand toward the latch. “What if we just opened the back end of the trailer and the horse accidentally escaped?”
His lips curved in a wry grin. He liked the way this woman’s brain worked. “I was thinking the same thing. But the horse is tied up in there, and even if we released the lead rope, where is it going to go?”
“I don’t know. But I feel like we have to do something.”
“Not our circus. Not our monkeys.” Zane shook his head and stole a glance at the three-legged dog sitting devotedly at the waitress’s feet. He put a hand on Bryn’s back to guide her toward the diner entrance and softened his tone. “You ca
n’t save everybody, Bryn.”
Her feet didn’t move. She turned to stare at him, holding his gaze for just long enough to have sweat heating his back. “I’m still gonna try to save as many as I can.”
Damn, but that woman had a habit of hitting him right in the heart. He gave a slight nod of his head, not trusting his voice to speak, as she tore her eyes from his and entered the restaurant.
“You’re late,” the fry-cook yelled from the kitchen. Gil had been frying eggs and slinging hash at the roadside diner for as long as Zane could remember. He’d learned to cook in the Navy, and as gruff as Gil sounded, Zane knew the old sailor had a soft spot for Bryn. Who didn’t?
“I know,” Bryn answered, the dog trotting at her heels as she raced into the back. Lucky must have taken his customary spot in the back office because Bryn emerged from the kitchen alone a few seconds later, hastily tying a white apron around her waist. She reached for the coffee pot as she apologized to Gil, the other waitress, and the sparse customers that filled the diner. “Sorry y’all. My stupid car broke down.”
“Again?” Ida Mae Phillips, an elderly woman, and a regular, who had taught Sunday school down at the Methodist church for over thirty years, questioned from her customary table by the window. “You have got to do something about that dad-blamed vehicle.”
“I know. I know.” Bryn forced a smile at the two men sitting at the counter. The taller one wore a threadbare flannel shirt that was hard to tell if it was dirty or just faded. A chewed up toothpick clung to his chapped lips. The other, a shorter guy whose body was muscled, yet his rounded belly gave away a habit of either too much beer or too many chicken wings, had on a T-shirt so wrinkled, it looked like he’d slept in it. A green hat covered his unwashed hair, a greasy stain soiling the bill. “It looks like you’re all set for coffee, so what can I get you fellas to eat?”
Zane slid onto a stool at the counter, leaving an empty spot between him and the two guys drinking coffee. He didn’t recognize either one, but that didn’t surprise him. He’d been gone for years, and the truck stop was next to the highway, so in addition to the regular locals, plenty of truckers and road trippers stopped in for the ‘county’s best chicken fried steak’ the sign above the diner boasted about.
But these guys didn’t fit any of those categories. They had a different air about them, with their grimy hair and dirty jeans and the oily way that one of them raked his eyes over Bryn’s figure before giving her his breakfast order.
Zane was sure these were the guys driving the trailer, and just the sound of their voices nettled his nerves like rocks against a cheese grater.
But Bryn kept her cool as she passed their order to Gil. She poured Zane a cup of coffee as she took his order next then worked her way around the room, checking in with the few other customers, exchanging comments about her car and the nice weather while she cleared plates and filled water glasses.
Zane was content to sip his coffee and nonchalantly watch her work. Her movements were quick and efficient, like every action she took had a purpose. He noted, and appreciated, the way her curvy hips swayed as she maneuvered between tables and around chairs. She wasn’t tall exactly, probably only five-seven or so, he knew this by how she fit against his over six foot frame the one time he’d danced with her, but she carried herself that way—her spine straight, her shoulders pulled back. Maybe it was from his time spent in the military, but he admired a woman with good posture.
He found he admired a lot of things about Bryn Callahan. She had a way about her that put people at ease, like they could tell she had a good heart. Just in the few minutes he’d been watching her, he’d seen her good-naturedly wipe up a child’s spill and offer him a high five and a sticker, give Ida Mae a hug before she left the diner, and stand over old Doc Hunter’s shoulder as they pondered a clue in his daily crossword puzzle. He liked the way she so easily doled out compliments and chatted with people, like they were old friends, instead of just customers. And some of them were. He and Bryn had both grown up in Creedence. They’d been a few years apart in school, and he hadn’t paid much attention to her back then.
But she sure had his attention now. Watching her tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and the sound of her laughter carrying through the diner had his gut doing the funny kind of flips he hadn’t felt in a long time. Hadn’t let himself feel.
And I have no business letting myself feel them now either, he thought as he picked up his fork and dug into the warm plate of biscuits and gravy Bryn set in front of him. He’d tried the ‘feelings’ route once before—tried the whole relationship thing but it had only ended in tragedy and pain. He’d been running from the memories of that relationship—the memories of Sarah—for years. Even now, the sound of an ambulance siren still caused his chest to tighten and his stomach to roil. And reminded him that love wasn’t worth the pain, and he wasn’t a bet any woman should take.
Bryn topped off the coffees of the two trailer guys as they ate then leaned her hip against the counter. Her manner suggested cool nonchalance, but Zane knew differently as he heard her casually ask, “Is that your horse out there?”
“Not ours,” Flannel Shirt said, his tone boastful and derisive. “But she’s in our trailer.”
Bryn eyed them, the first hint of suspicion showing on her face. “Why do you have someone else’s horse in your trailer? Who does she belong to?”
“No one. Not anymore.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t get it, but I noticed she didn’t seem very happy.”
“I’m sure she isn’t,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders. “But it doesn’t matter. She’s not gonna seem anything by this time tomorrow. That nag is on her way to “a farm in the country”, if you know what I mean.” He used his fingers to make air quotes.
Bryn’s eyes widened as a gasp escaped her lips. “You mean you’re taking her to…” She obviously couldn’t say the words, and her skin took on a greenish pallor.
Green Hat nodded, and his lips curved into a sly grin. “Yep. We’re what you might call a ‘Waste Disposal’ company.”
The color drained from Bryn’s face. “You can’t be serious.”
“As a horse’s heart attack.” He talked around the bite of hash browns in his mouth as he elbowed the other man in the rib and laughed at his own poor joke.
“But why?” she asked.
“Who knows? And who cares? Not our business to ask. We just collect the horse and the fee then it’s our job to drop them off at the glue factory.”
Just as “casually” as Bryn had been, Zane kept an eye on the conversation, and he swore he saw the light blink in Bryn’s eyes as an idea occurred to her.
“Soooo, if you’ve already collected the fee for her, what happens if she never makes it to the…” She swallowed. “The final destination?”
Flannel Shirt shrugged again. “Nothing, I guess. Except they have one less horse to slaughter.”
Bryn winced, but wasn’t swayed by their obvious attempt to rile her. “So what if you just let her go? Or, what if I took her off your hands? I live on a farm so from what you said earlier, you’d still be fulfilling your obligation.”
Green Hat’s eyes went dark and predatory. “Where is this farm? Maybe we could stop by and visit before we leave town.”
A low growl formed in Zane’s throat, and his knuckles went white around his fork as he considered jabbing the utensil into the dirtbag’s eye.
Flannel Shirt put a hand on his partner’s arm as he eyed Bryn, working the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “I can see you really want this horse. So we might be able to arrange something. What did you have in mind?”
“Not the same thing he does,” she answered, flashing Green Hat a disdainful look. She forced her lips back into a smile as she regarded Flannel Shirt. “How about I cover your breakfast and pack you a lunch for the road as well? I’ll
even throw in a couple of slices of pie.”
He let out a scornful laugh. “How about you do all that and throw in a couple of hundred bucks?”
Bryn’s shoulders sank. “I don’t have a couple of hundred bucks.” She pressed her lips together then inhaled a deep breath before offering, “But I’d give you my car in exchange for letting me have the horse.”
“The one you just told this whole place is broken down on the side of the road? No thanks.”
“Yeah, what are we gonna do with a broken down car?” Green Hat chimed in. As casual as she tried to act, they knew they had her. “Couple of guys like us, we work on a ‘cash only’ basis.”
“I understand. I’m just a little low on cash right now.” She glanced around the diner as if mentally counting up her morning tips. “And there’s no way I can make that in tips today. But think about it, you giving me the horse only makes your job easier. That seems like a no-brainer for a couple of smart guys like you.”
These two idiots were the ‘no-brainers.’ Zane held back a smirk as he reached for his wallet to pay his bill. He needed to get out of here before he did something foolish—like kicked these guys out on their greasy butts and let the horse go. Or worse.
Flannel Shirt tapped his finger on the counter, a thin line of grease visible under his nail. “No one’s ever offered to buy our load before, but you have a point. If we don’t have to drop off that horse, we can get home a day early. So maybe I’m feeling generous and willing to make a deal.”
“I’m listening,” Bryn said, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.
“You cover our breakfast and pack us a lunch, and we’ll give you that horse for an even hundred.”
“And don’t forget the pie,” Green Hat threw in.