That Woman in Wyoming

by Sherry Lewis

  Reagan laughed. “Chicken. It’s the only thing they serve. Your choices are baked or fried, white meat or dark.”

  He set the menu aside and smiled ruefully. “Right. Well, then, I guess I’ll have chicken—dark and fried.”

  Reagan ordered baked white.

  When the waitress left, Max found himself looking into Reagan’s eyes again. He couldn’t seem to look away for more than a few seconds at a time. There was something about her—something warm and genuine that held him spellbound. He should be trying to find information about Carmichael’s sister. He could be keeping an eye open in case Carmichael was in town. But he didn’t want to think about Carmichael. He didn’t want this moment to end for a while. And there was no law that said he had to mix business with pleasure.

  “Can you honestly say you’re happy living in a town where your only choices are chicken and hamburgers? What if you have a craving for something else?”

  “I cook it.”

  “You said this building used to be the theater. Is there another one in town?”

  “No.”

  “What if you want to take in a play or see a movie?”

  She shrugged casually. “Plays are out, but there’s a movie theater about twenty miles from here, and we can rent almost anything we want on video. It doesn’t really matter that we have to wait a few months because none of the neighbors will have seen it, either.” She leaned back in her chair and ran her fingers up the sides of her glass. “How can you stand the traffic, the noise, the crowds and the chaos of the city?”

  “It’s not chaos, it’s energy, and I love it.”

  “And the crime?”

  “There’s crime everywhere—even in small towns.”

  “Not according to Serenity’s city fathers.” Reagan sent him a thin smile and waved her hand as if she wanted to clear the air. “Maybe we should agree to disagree on that subject. Shall we try sports?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’s your favorite?”

  “Football.”

  She laughed as if his answer was inevitable. “I like basketball. Football’s too slow.”

  “This from the lady who lives life in the slow lane?” He chuckled and gave himself over to the conversation, the mood and the teasing smile on her face. “Football requires strategy, brains—”

  “But in basketball the action never stops. It’s not like football where you spend twenty minutes waiting between every play.” Her grin widened and he knew the initial awkwardness between them had passed. “How about pets? Dogs or cats?”

  “Dogs. Definitely.”

  She shook her head sadly. “We have a cat. Dogs are too rough.”

  “I don’t even want to ask about politics or religion.”

  “I think that’s wise.” She tilted her head and studied him with mischievous green eyes. “Music?”

  “I like rock. Mostly groups from when I was a teenager.”

  “And I like country. Do you think we have anything in common?”

  At this point, Max didn’t care. On impulse, he reached across the table and covered her hand with his. The shock of her touch, the warmth of her skin, the silkiness of her fingers stunned him. He lifted his gaze to meet hers and found himself lost in the deep-green sea. He couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t let go.

  He cleared his throat and managed to get a few words out. “You know what they say…Opposites attract.”

  “Yes, I suppose they do.”

  “You suppose? That doesn’t sound very promising.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  He told himself not to say the words that formed on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t want to come on too strong. “Oh, I don’t know,” he heard himself begin. “Maybe that there’s a chance we could go on from here.”

  “Go on?” Reagan’s eyes turned the color of emeralds and she drew her hand away slowly, leaving his empty and cold. “Where exactly would that lead us?”

  “We’d have to wait and see.”

  “How long will you be in town?”

  “I’m planning on a week. If I can’t find what I’m after in that time, I’ll move on.”

  She took a deep breath and pulled herself back to the ground. “I’m not going to pretend I’m not attracted to you, but I think we’d both be smart to keep this in perspective. I have two teenage children, and I have to live in this town long after you’re gone. If you’re looking for a noncommittal fling while you’re here, you’re knocking on the wrong door.”

  “That’s not what I want,” he said honestly. “It never even crossed my mind.” Until this moment.

  She held his gaze, refusing to look away. “Then what do you want?”

  “Lunch. Someone interesting to talk to while I eat it. A friendly face while I’m here in town.”

  “Nothing more?”

  Several different answers came to mind, but he made himself give her the one she wanted. “Nothing more.”

  THAT EVENING, Reagan hummed softly as she lowered her purse to the kitchen counter. She’d had a terrible time trying to concentrate on work after lunch. Andie had peppered her with so many questions about Max she’d ended up making a dozen mistakes on the letters she’d been typing—and those were just the ones she’d caught. She’d hardly paid attention to the road on the drive home. And as she glanced around the kitchen, she realized she hadn’t even thought about what to fix for dinner.

  But even that couldn’t dampen her mood.

  Music filled her mind and soul, the budding spring flowers seemed more colorful and fragrant, and just looking at the leaves starting to grow on the trees had sent a shiver of joy through her. Every nerve ending in her body seemed extrasensitive and she felt more womanly, more feminine, and more attractive than she had in years. Max had awoken something inside her.

  She hadn’t realized until today how long it had been since she’d thought of herself as anything but a mom, and she liked this new awareness of herself as a woman. She just didn’t know what she was going to do about it. Serenity wasn’t exactly teeming with eligible bachelors.

  Not that she was going to start looking, she told herself firmly. None of the men she’d met in Serenity appealed to her—at least not in the way Max did—and she’d already turned down invitations from the few who’d shown more than a passing interest. But maybe it was time to rejoin the real world. Time to have a few interests other than bills, housework and the division of teenage property.

  She shivered, remembering the look in Max’s eyes when he’d touched her hand and cooled off again when she remembered why she’d pulled away. She’d done the right thing. Much as she loved Serenity, she couldn’t deny that life here was lived under a microscope.

  Giving herself a stern shake, she hurried into her bathroom and pulled her hair up. Danielle had a dance lesson in a few hours, and Reagan needed to find something for dinner quickly if they were going to make it on time.

  Back in the kitchen, she filled a glass with ice and poured a diet soda, then started to search through the refrigerator and cupboards. She thawed a package of ground beef in the microwave, dropped it into the frying pan and began to break it apart with a fork. But it wasn’t easy to put Max’s gray-blue eyes out of her mind or forget the feel of his hand as it had covered hers.

  The back door banged open and pulled Reagan back to earth as Jamie stormed inside, flinging her backpack onto the table and propping her hands on her hips. Whether she’d had a good day or a bad one, Jamie always made a dramatic entrance.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” Reagan said over her shoulder. “How was school?”

  Jamie dropped heavily into one of the ladder-back chairs at the table and let out a deep, soul-wrenching sigh. “It sucked. Mr. Enemoto gave us twice as much math homework as he usually does, and I have a test in Spanish tomorrow.”

  Real life settled in with a resounding crash. “I guess you won’t be watching much television tonight, will you?”

  Jamie raked her fingers through her hair, n
early undoing her braid in the process. “It’s not fair. All I ever do is homework.”

  “That’s not true,” Reagan said. “You have time for basketball practice and the games.”

  “Yeah, but it’s all stuff I don’t like.”

  Reagan turned down the burner and faced her daughter. “Where is this going, Jamie? Back to the rock climbing lessons?”

  Jamie set her mouth stubbornly and lifted her narrow chin. She looked more like Paul than ever. “I really want to take them, Mom.”

  “And I really don’t want you to.”

  Jamie kicked her feet onto a chair and rested her chin in her hand. “You’re not being fair. You let Danielle do everything she wants.”

  “I don’t let Danielle do everything she wants. If I did, she’d have a friend over every day after school, she’d sleep at someone else’s house every other night, and she’d do her homework with her ear attached to the phone. But if you think there’s a difference, it might be because Danielle doesn’t pick out activities that could kill her.”

  Reagan immediately regretted her outburst. Paul seemed to fill the silence between them and every argument she’d ever had with him echoed in her mind. For an instant, Reagan wondered if she was being unfair to her adventurous daughter. The doubt faded almost immediately.

  “When you get older, I might consider it,” she said as a compromise, “but that won’t be for a few more years.”

  Jamie would probably have argued, but Danielle burst into the room at that moment. She lowered her backpack onto the floor and glared at Reagan. “I can’t believe you had a date and didn’t tell us.”

  Reagan groaned silently. Jamie’s mouth fell open and for a moment the climbing lessons were forgotten. “You had a date?”

  “Well, yes. But—”

  “You had a date?” Jamie sat up quickly and shared a look with her sister. “With who?”

  Danielle supplied the answer. “With that guy we saw at the Burger Shack last night.”

  “With that guy?” Jamie’s eyes flew wide. “No wonder you were acting so weird.”

  “I hadn’t even met him last night,” Reagan said quickly. “I’d just bumped into him at work for a second.”

  “Well, then how—? When? Where? And why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I intended to,” Reagan said, “but the morning got away from me before I could. There was the jeans fiasco and then Uncle Travis called, and you had to leave for school before I got off the phone.”

  Jamie fell back against her chair and blew her bangs out of her eyes. “That was Uncle Travis on the phone this morning?”

  “It was.”

  “One thing at a time,” Danielle interrupted. “I want to know about this date. What’s his name?” She unzipped her backpack and pulled out a bottle of blue nail polish. “When did he ask you out? What’s he like?”

  Still mindful of the time, Reagan opened a can of mushroom soup and added it to the pan. “His name is Max Gardner. We ran into each other this morning while we were jogging. We started talking, one thing led to another, and he asked me to have lunch with him. It was that simple.”

  “He is so good-looking,” Danielle said dreamily. “What did you talk about?”

  “We talked about the two of you. And about your dad.” She watched their reactions carefully before going on. “We talked about his family, and about him. Just the usual stuff.”

  Jamie took the direct approach. “Are you going out with him again?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s only in town for a little while, so it’s not as if anything can come of it.” Funny how sad it made her feel to say that.

  “I didn’t ask if you were going to marry him,” Jamie said with a roll of her eyes. “You can date somebody without marrying him, you know.”

  “I know.” Reagan found a bundle of celery in the refrigerator. Why had she worried that the girls would make too much of her date? They were fine.

  Danielle readjusted a sparkling clip in her hair, being careful to keep her wet nails from getting smudged. “Well, I think you should go out with him again.”

  “So do I.” Jamie rested her chin in both hands. “Unless there’s something wrong with him.”

  There wasn’t anything wrong with him physically. Reagan’s hands grew clammy just thinking about him. But there were too many other things wrong.

  “Go out with him,” Danielle urged again. “All you ever do is drive us around to our stuff. You need to have fun, too.”

  Reagan looked from one set of brown eyes to the other, surprised by how much she wanted to take their advice. She supposed it might be all right as long as she and Max knew there was no real future together. If they kept things in perspective, could any real harm come from enjoying a little companionship?

  “Okay,” she said slowly. “If he asks to see me again, I’ll say yes.”

  Jamie found a piece of gum in her pocket and unwrapped it. “Why do you have to wait for him to ask?”

  “Because I—”

  Danielle pulled polish remover from her backpack and dabbed at a patch of blue on her finger. “I think you should invite him over for dinner.”

  Reagan laughed. “For hamburger noodle casserole?” She looked at the clutter on the kitchen counter. “I don’t think so. Besides, you have a dance lesson.”

  “Not tonight, then,” Jamie said. “Tomorrow. We could help you make lasagna or something.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Oh, come on, Mom. I’ll bet he’s already sick of eating at the places around here. Besides, you always tell us we’re supposed to repay invitations from people.”

  “Well, yes, I do. But—”

  “So?” Danielle scowled up from a package of nail art stickers she’d found somewhere. “Invite him to dinner.”

  Reagan couldn’t believe she was actually considering it. “I suppose asking him to dinner wouldn’t hurt.”

  Danielle and Jamie exchanged grins, as if they’d accomplished something remarkable. Maybe they had.

  Reagan went back to cooking dinner, suddenly excited by the prospect of seeing Max again. The memory of his voice drifted in and out of her imagination as she worked, leaving tingles of anticipation racing up her arms, down her sides, through her stomach.

  Too bad he wasn’t staying in Serenity. It might be interesting to see where this would lead.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “COFFEE?”

  Rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand, Max nodded and turned over his cup in its saucer. “Please.”

  “Looks like you had a rough night.”

  He blinked up at the pretty, dark-haired waitress who’d served him breakfast the day before. “Very rough.”

  She filled his cup, then rested the coffeepot on the edge of the table. “I’ve heard that the beds at the Wagon Wheel aren’t the best. If you’re going to be here long, maybe you should think about getting an apartment. Joe Walker has some he rents out by the month.”

  It wasn’t the bed that had kept Max up so late he’d decided to skip his morning jog. It had been after two when he’d shut down his laptop without finding any information on Ronnie Carmichael. He’d been working backward, beginning with what he knew about Travis and moving meticulously through search engines, Internet yellow pages and telephone books until his eyes burned and his shoulders ached from sitting in one position for hours.

  He took a welcome sip from his cup and tried again to blink away his exhaustion. “I don’t plan to be here that long, but thanks for the suggestion. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  She nodded but made no move to leave. “I hear you’re looking for property. Have you found what you want yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Is it for condominiums?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She lifted the coffeepot, then lowered it again. “I only ask because my brother and I own some really nice land our grandfather left us up near the ridge. It’s not close to town, but it has a ni
ce view. I’ve always thought it would be a good place for condos. I could show it to you if you’re interested.”

  Max sipped again and smiled at her over the rim of his cup. His eyes started to focus slowly and he could finally read the name tag pinned to her pink uniform. “Thanks, Stacy. I’ll let you know.” His mind began to clear, ready to get back to business.

  “So what’ll it be this morning?” she asked. “Another omelette?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll try Spanish this time. White toast. And orange juice.” He set his cup aside. “A friend of mine asked me to look up his sister while I’m here, but all I have is a first name. Do you know someone named Ronnie?”

  “Ronnie?” Stacy shook her head. “No. Sorry. Nobody by that name around here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Are you sure you have the name right? I know a Bonnie, but no Ronnie.”

  “I could be wrong, I guess. Where can I find Bonnie?”

  “She works in the bakery at the FoodTown. You can find her there most days.”

  He dug the small black-and-white picture of Travis from his shirt pocket and held it out to her. “Have you ever seen this guy with her?”

  Stacy’s eyebrows slanted over suspicious brown eyes. “I thought you were here looking for property.”

  “I am. I’m also trying to find my friend’s sister. She might be with this guy.” He nodded toward the picture. “Does he look familiar?”

  She studied it carefully before handing it back. “Nope. Never seen him before. And I don’t think you’ll find him with Bonnie, either. She’s lived here for about nine hundred years and she just celebrated her fortieth wedding anniversary last month. She lives next door to my grandma.”

  “Well, then, she’s probably not the right person.” Max tucked the picture back into his pocket and took another long sip of coffee. “Thanks, anyway.”

  Stacy picked up the coffeepot and leaned one hip against the table. “Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

  “No problem. You did what you could.” He opened a packet of sugar and dumped it into his cup. “There is one more question you could answer for me, though. Do you know if anyone has moved to town recently?”