Big Sky Romance Collection

by Denise Hunter

“You’re living in—Addison is the girl—oh my word.”

  “Madison. Maddy.” The name conjured Maddy’s face, and the image of Maddy’s face conjured guilt.

  Abigail shoved her emotions aside. Truthseeker. “J. W. goes by Wade now. Wade Ryan. He and his daughter own a ranch here in Moose Creek, keep a very low profile.”

  “Are you sure? How can you be sure it’s J. W.?”

  “I’m sure, Mom. I’ve been doing some research. He hasn’t changed much in looks, and from what he’s told me of his past, it lines up with what we know of J. W. It’s him, no doubt in my mind.”

  “Oh my word! This is perfect. Abigail, do you know what this means?”

  “It’s a new day for Viewpoint.”

  “And just in time. Oh, Abigail, it’s an answered prayer—I have to talk to Larry about the cover—this is the last issue we’re working on—well, not the last issue now! The Truthseeker column is going to save the day! We’ll plaster J. W.’s image on the cover with the words Celebrity Cowboy Found or maybe something catchier, and we must use a baby blue background to set off those eyes! What about his wife’s death—have you discovered anything—oh, Abigail, you could be living with a murderer!”

  “No, Mom. Wade’s no murderer. I don’t know exactly what happened to his wife, but he didn’t kill her.”

  “You can’t know that. I mean, your instincts are great, but you can’t be too careful. Maybe you should move back in with Aunt Lucy . . . we can come up with a reason—”

  “Living here puts me in the perfect spot to do my research.” The perfect spot to betray my new friends. “Really, Mom, I’m safe. I promise.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You sound, I don’t know . . . strange. Are you sure you’re all right? So much for a relaxing vacation—you’ve been working all this time.”

  “I’m fine. I get plenty of rest.”

  “Well, put your health first, sweetie. Viewpoint is important to me, but nowhere near as important as you.”

  “I know that. I’ll keep trying to get more info on Elizabeth’s death, but one way or another, I’ll get the story to you on time. Just save space for my column.”

  “Be careful. I don’t like you living in his house.”

  “I’m completely safe. Besides, they don’t know who I am. As far as they’re concerned, I’m just Lucy’s great-niece, filling in as nanny for the summer.” And that’s all she’d been when all this started.

  “Do be careful. Don’t press so hard that he gets suspicious. Oh, what am I saying? You’re a better investigator than I ever was.”

  “But you’re the best editor-in-chief a magazine could ask for. And BlueFly is going to realize it come September.”

  “Take your time with the article. You can have until mid-August if you need to. Everyone will pick up that issue, Abigail, you realize that? And once they do, once they see our fresh new format . . . I can offer a subscription discount to entice new readers . . . We’ve got to make this the best issue ever.”

  Abigail couldn’t help but smile at her mother’s enthusiasm.

  “You have made my week—no, my year! I’ve been so worried about the staff—do you know how many jobs you’re saving?”

  “The story presented itself. I’m just doing my job.” That’s all she was doing. Her job. And it wasn’t like she was doing Wade and Maddy any real harm. Wade was innocent, and she’d make sure that fact rang through loud and clear in her column.

  22

  Abigail’s laptop was driving her crazy. It had been running slow for the past few weeks, but now it was really trying her patience. She could bake a cake in the time it took for a page to load.

  She shut the thing off and went downstairs. Maddy had ridden her bike to Olivia’s, where she was spending the night, so Abigail had the evening off. Computer shops would be closed tomorrow, so if she was going to get it repaired, the time was now. If only she could find one that stayed open late.

  She opened the phone book to the yellow pages and set it on the kitchen table. If she was lucky, they could fix it while she waited. She scanned the list for a shop in Moose Creek and found none. They were all in Bozeman, a forty-five-minute drive. Terrific. It was almost seven already.

  She called the first shop on the list and was told they closed at seven; besides which, it would take three days for them to even look at her laptop. She called the next one on the list, and the next one. Finally, on the fifth try, she found a shop that was open until nine and would diagnose it on the spot, maybe even fix it, depending on the problem. She took down directions to the shop and hung up.

  Now for a vehicle. Aunt Lucy was off work, but she played bridge at her friend’s house on Saturday evenings. Abigail retrieved her purse and laptop and then dialed Wade’s cell, hoping he had reception.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hi, Wade, it’s Abigail. Wondered if I could borrow the truck to go to Bozeman . . . unless you have plans.”

  “No plans. Go ’head. Keys are on the hook.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  Abigail left the house and started the vehicle. The thing was so old. She wondered why Wade didn’t get one of the shiny new trucks that seemed to be so popular with the cowboys around town. She was sure he could afford it.

  The drive to Bozeman took forever, but she finally reached the town as the sun was sinking over the mountains. She found the shop after getting lost only once, and the repairman was able to free up some space on her hard drive—which was apparently the problem. She was out the door with a faster computer in less than sixty minutes, just in time for the man to lock up behind her.

  She headed out of town. The sun was long gone, the moon rising in the sky, and the mountains to the north were only shadows on the horizon. Streetlamps flickered on, and college students walked the sidewalks, hurrying toward the restaurants and bars that lined the main street. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she’d skipped dinner. With Greta off and Maddy gone, she hadn’t even thought about eating. She considered stopping at a drive-thru, then heard Reagan’s voice chiding her and decided to have something healthier back at the house.

  When she made it to the highway, Abigail turned east and pushed the pedal, waiting for the delayed acceleration. The highway was all but deserted, a long stretch of road winding around buttes and rolling hills. She settled back in her seat, content to have her laptop in top order again.

  She could stay up late doing research. Or she could spend time with Wade, since he didn’t have plans. All alone with Wade. The shudder of her nerves had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with a whole night alone with the cowboy who’d wedged his way into her heart.

  Still, it wasn’t often they had a chance to talk without Maddy around. She couldn’t waste the opportunity. Almost a week had passed since she’d told her mom about Wade, and she hadn’t learned anything new.

  She wished she could forget the story and enjoy his company— because she did enjoy his company. More than was healthy, given the circumstances. If only things were different. If only he wasn’t the subject of her investigation. If only the story wasn’t necessary to save Viewpoint.

  Abigail sighed hard. If only you could focus on your job and forget about your feelings for Wade.

  The thought stopped her cold.

  She did have feelings for Wade—feelings that went beyond friendship. The truth hit her, the weight of it a sinking reality in the pit of her stomach. Somehow, being near him, sharing with him, watching him parent Maddy, she’d lost her way. Somehow, on the way to doing her job, she’d let Wade in, and she wondered now how she’d get him back out. Could feelings be reversed? She didn’t think so.

  And yet she was stuck here. She had a job to do—two, actually. Somehow she had to complete both while guarding her heart. Because she could see now that this path would only end in heartache for both of them. It would be hard enough to betray a friendship, but to—

  The engine made a funny clunking
noise. As soon as it sounded, it was gone. She hoped everything was okay. She looked around at the surrounding darkness. How long had she been on the road? Fifteen, twenty minutes?

  Another clunk sent Abigail’s nerves into overdrive. Was she out of gas? She hadn’t checked the gauge once. But no, there was almost half a tank. The engine sputtered and the truck began decelerating.

  Oh no. She pressed the gas pedal to the ground and got nada. There was an exit ahead, veering off to the right. She saw no lights, but it was her only hope of a service station, or at least a store where she could wait.

  Abigail turned down the ramp, pulling hard on the wheel, which had lost its power steering. The truck coasted down a slight incline that led only to a long, desolate road. Maybe she should’ve stayed on the highway. It was so dark out here, and not a car in sight.

  She pulled the truck to the side as it coasted to a stop. It gave a final shudder as she turned off the ignition. Darkness pressed against the windows and silence shrouded the vehicle. Relax. You’re in Montana, not Chicago. In Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana, with no sign of life anywhere.

  But she had her cell. She pulled it from her purse and dialed Wade. She wasn’t sure how he’d come for her since she had his truck, but surely he could borrow a friend’s car or Aunt Lucy’s if she was home now.

  There was no answer on his cell, so she tried the house. The phone rang once. Twice. Come on, pick up. Who would she call if he didn’t answer? What if Aunt Lucy wasn’t home yet?

  I need some help here, God. I know we haven’t talked in a while, but— “Yeah?” Wade’s voice had never sounded so good.

  “Wade, it’s Abigail. The truck broke down.”

  “Where are you?” The instant alert in his tone calmed her.

  “Well . . . I was on I-90, and I coasted off an exit when the truck started sputtering.”

  “Which exit?”

  Hmmm. She looked around, hoping something—like a sign— had materialized since last time she looked. “I’m not sure. There’s a fence along the road . . .” How lame was that? “I think there’s a building way back off the right side.”

  “You were coming back toward Moose Creek, traveling east?”

  “Yes. Wait—I passed a sign a few minutes ago that said something about grizzly bears.” The thought had her scanning the darkness.

  “I think I know where you are. Be there soon—maybe twenty minutes. Keep your phone on and lock your doors.”

  “Are there grizzly bears around here?” She failed to keep the squeak from her voice.

  “They’re enclosed. You have nothing to fear, city girl. Sit tight.”

  Abigail hung up, feeling stupid for the question. She turned off the headlights and gazed out the window. Man alive, it was dark out here. Even the moon was hiding. It was like being in a darkroom. What animals were out there? Bobcats or wild things that preyed on humans? Could they smell her fear?

  She turned the headlights back on. Two beams shot out about twenty feet, their cones fading into darkness. Maybe someone from the highway would see her lights and come help. Then again, maybe someone would see them and take advantage.

  She quickly flipped off the lights. What had gotten into her? She was a woman who could walk the streets of the third largest city in the US without thought to her safety, yet she freaked about being stranded on a dark country road?

  Still, there were those bears. Enclosed bears, she reminded herself.

  Abigail sighed and shifted, unbuckling her seat belt. Well, she’d wanted something else to worry about other than her infatuation with Wade. She’d gotten it.

  It hadn’t taken him two seconds to respond to her call for help. She was relieved he hadn’t sounded irritated. They had a long night ahead of them. A long night at home, just her and Wade.

  Home? She was calling it home now? You’re leaving Moose Creek in a month. Then you’ll be going to your real home. Your real job.

  Even so, she was eager to get back to the house, Wade or no Wade. Anything to be out of this broken-down rattletrap in Nowheresville.

  Where was he anyway? It had been at least ten minutes, hadn’t it? A screech of some kind pulled her eyes toward the window. It was an animal sound, but what kind? And how close? And more importantly, could it get through the door of a broken-down Ford?

  Her heart kept time like a tightly wound clock. She was safe. Wade had said so himself—hadn’t he?

  She needed something to do. Something to occupy her mind until he arrived. She opened her laptop. The screen seemed bright in the confines of the cab, but she held it down low so it wouldn’t shed enough light to draw attention from the highway.

  There was no Wi-Fi of course, but she could do something else. She opened her picture files and browsed those for a while. Christmas last year at her mom’s, several pictures from her last story. New Year’s dinner with Reagan at Follia.

  Reagan. She could call her sister to pass the—no, she couldn’t. Wade might call, and she didn’t want to risk missing it. What was taking him so long?

  She closed the photos and was just browsing her documents when her cell rang.

  “Think I might be close to your exit. Are your lights on?”

  “No.”

  “Turn them on so I can find you.”

  She flipped the old switch and looked behind her for Wade.

  “I see you,” he said and disconnected.

  Abigail saw his lights turning down the ramp. Thank You, God.

  By the time she gathered her laptop and purse, a truck was beside her.

  “Hop in,” he called from the window of the silver truck. She took the keys and switched vehicles.

  “What about your truck?”

  “Get it later.” He put the truck in drive and started off. “You cold?”

  Abigail realized she was shaking, but it wasn’t from the chill in the air. Still, she wasn’t about to admit it. “I’m fine.”

  He flipped on the heat anyway and took the other ramp onto the highway. “Sorry it took so long. Had to hunt down Dylan.”

  She’d recognized the silver Chevy. The cab’s new-car smell mingled with the faint scent that was all Wade.

  Abigail bucked her belt. “Sorry you had to come all the way out here.”

  “Not your fault.”

  Abigail relaxed into the seat as the heat warmed the cab. Her heart slowly settled. She inhaled a deep breath and whispered another prayer of gratitude.

  A country singer crooned softly on the radio about a lost love, and Abigail sneaked a peek at Wade. She remembered her mom worrying for her safety, and the irony struck her. She felt safer with Wade than she’d felt with anyone in a long time. There hadn’t been any doubt that he’d come for her, one way or another. He was that kind of man. The kind of man she could count on, lean on.

  A good man. Her story would reflect that. She’d see to it. Just because she had to betray his whereabouts, and hopefully the cause of Lizzie’s death, was no reason he had to be cast in a negative light.

  “It make any kind of noises?”

  “What?”

  “The truck, before it died.”

  “Oh. It sort of went klunk, klunk, klunk, gave one last shudder, then it was gone. You know, it’s none of my business, but you could kind of use a new one.”

  “She’s a workin’ truck.”

  “Well, she ain’t really workin’,” Abigail said in her best Texas drawl.

  Wade smirked. “Kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you.”

  Abigail’s stomach let out a ferocious growl, and she crossed her arms over her middle.

  “That your stomach?”

  “Forgot dinner.”

  “Want to stop somewhere?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll just grab something at the house.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  When they pulled up to the house, Abigail was struck by how dark and vacant it looked. Not even the porch light on. They’d be all alone in that house all night for the first time. If she
had trouble maintaining a professional distance with Maddy around, how was she going to manage when they were alone?

  It’s an opportunity, she told herself. She could get to know Wade better without letting him in any further. Besides, it was late. Must be after ten by now, and Wade rose early to tend to the animals.

  “What about Dylan’s truck?”

  “I’ll pick him up for church in the morning.”

  Wade opened the front door and let her by. Abigail flipped on the lamp, set down her things, and headed straight for the kitchen. She opened the pantry and paused in front of the half-empty shelves, then heard Wade’s footsteps following her into the kitchen.

  23

  Wade opened the fridge door, feeling guilty about the paltry selection. “Guess Greta needs to hit the market.”

  “It is kind of sparse.” Abigail reached into the pantry. “I’ll have some peanuts.”

  “We’ve got eggs and stuff. I could make an omelet. I skipped dinner too.”

  “You cook?”

  “Cowboys have many hidden talents.” Omelets were the only thing he cooked, but she didn’t have to know that.

  Abigail set the table while Wade cracked the eggs into a bowl, adding cheese and ham. The quiet of the house without Maddy rang in his ears. A cozy supper with Abigail was the last thing he needed. What was he doing? It was hard enough to keep his distance as it was.

  When the omelet was finished, he served it and sat across from Abigail. She’d taken Maddy’s usual spot across from him, which put more distance between them. Fine by him.

  After a silent prayer, he dug in. He thought of his daughter and hoped she’d be okay at her friend’s all night.

  “I wonder what Maddy’s doing.” Abigail scooped egg onto her fork. “Has she spent the night away before?”

  “No. Was wondering the same thing.”

  “Eggs are good.” Abigail saluted him with her empty fork. “The girls are probably having so much fun, she won’t think twice about being away.”

  “Probably.” He’d slept over at Dylan’s many times by age eleven. They used to practice their roping, sometimes on Dylan’s dog, Moe. When they tired of that, they amused themselves by putting frogs in Dylan’s sister’s bed or sneaking matches from the kitchen and starting fires behind the barn. He wondered what kind of mischief two little girls could make. He should’ve spoken with Shay personally. He hoped she was keeping an eye on them.