So much for privacy.
Wedged between Dalton getting out of his coat, the now-crowded tables with the mid-morning rush, and Clay Saunders’ mammoth chest, Sally felt her cheeks grow warm. She glanced up at Clay. His expression was unreadable, unchanged. While Tyler was difficult to converse with, Clay was another matter altogether. He was all brawn, honed like a mountain, Grade-A military stock, and carried a lot of anguish from his past. Suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, survivor guilt, and missing part of a leg, he was a wounded warrior in more than just a physical sense. He intrigued and frightened her at the same time, especially after the brief incident at the ranch last fall where she’d seen his demeanor change on a dime. Things had been said between them that had never really been resolved. She hugged the to-go box to her chest and tossed him a quick glance. “Mr. Saunders,” she offered in brief greeting.
He stepped to the side to let her though the narrow passage. “Sally,” he muttered in a barely discernable tone.
“And for the record, Dalton, I am not dating anyone.” She leveled him an emphatic look, then turned to a surprised Betty standing behind the register. “Rolls were delicious today, Betty.” Sally glanced around the small café, aware that the normal chatter had stopped and several eyes were on her.
“Thanks, doll. Don’t be a stranger.” Betty gave her a wink.
“I still want to hear how it goes,” Dalton called to her.
Sally paused at the door. There were times when living in this small town was akin to living in a fishbowl. She caught Dalton’s grin and the expectant look of several other patrons. He knew very well that he’d pushed a button.
Dalton was the last of the Kinnison brothers—and the least likely—to find love. But he and Angelique’s story had come full circle after years apart and, despite the obstacles they suffered, they’d found love—giving Sally hope that she, too, would find love… just not with Tyler Janzen. Then again, she’d changed her mind about her “perfect man” so many times in the past few years that she wasn’t entirely sure she could handle a relationship with any man.
Clay Saunders glanced over his menu, his dark green eyes capturing hers. A snappy comeback to Dalton’s remark dissolved in her brain.
***
Clay took another long swallow of the coffee he’d brought with him. Rein had jostled him out of bed at the crack of dawn, insisting that they had to get chores done early so they could begin demolition today in Sally Andersen’s kitchen. He turned as he heard Sally thundering down the stairs and could have placed bets on the fact that she’d not be able to stop when she hit her highly polished hardwood floor.
He peeked around the industrial plastic they’d hung over the kitchen entrance to prevent as much dust and dirt as possible from getting into the rest of the house. Sure enough, he heard the thud and a gasp just before a tote somersaulted through the air, its contents fluttering across the floor.
Clearing his throat, he walked idly over to where the pretty redheaded Sally sat looking suitably stunned. He held out his hand to help her stand. “In a hurry?” he said, eyeing those legs in old-fashioned winter tights. She wore a red plaid skirt, decidedly bunched high on her hips at the moment and a black cashmere turtleneck that molded to her body. Her hair was wound up in some twist that he hadn’t seen since episodes of Green Acres, but on her it looked damn appealing.
“I forgot I had bus duty this morning.” She accepted his hand.
He pulled her to her feet in one quick yank. Her stocking feet slipped a bit as she bent down to pick up the papers littering the floor. “You know they make stair treads and rugs for wood floors.” he said, trying to force his gaze not to linger too long on the spot where the skirt curved around her thighs. Bending down was not an easy task with his artificial leg, but he attempted to scoop up as many papers as possible without toppling over.
“Where’s Rein?” she asked, not looking up—and, he noted, ignoring his comment.
“Had to go to the hardware store to pick up a couple of things,” Clay answered.
“Thank you.” She took the papers from him and stuffed them in the bag. Searching around her, she sighed and looked up at him. “Would you mind holding this?” She grabbed her winter boots and, sitting on the bottom step, slipped them over her feet and zipped them up. She quickly slid into her coat. Her hair listed precariously to one side.
Clay fought the urge to reach up and let the fiery waves slide through his fingers. Damn, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even toyed with such thoughts.
“Thank you,” she said in a curt tone.
Sensing she was clearly a woman on a mission, he thought it best to step aside. He handed her the bag and did just that. She’d probably bruised her tailbone with the intensity of her landing. But he knew the woman’s pride ran deep. He’d bruised it once a few months ago at a moment when she’d challenged him and he snapped, saying some unkind things to her. Things between them had been chilly since, to say the least. He told himself that he didn’t care. That she was a strong-willed, bossy little thing who could drive a man to drink. But in the dark hours of the night when he was left alone with nothing but his anger and his guilt, he knew that part of what she’d said to him was true.
But he’d be damned if he’d let her think she was right.
He watched her hobble gingerly down the front porch steps to her beat-up old truck. A blue Ford with more rust than paint that was her dad’s as he understood. He envied her a little, not only for the truck, but because she possessed something of her past—her family. He had nothing except a sister whose pity had driven him away after he’d come back home and a mother who recently passed from Alzheimer’s, never again regaining any recognition of him, but always talking to him about her son in the Army.
“Okay, these bits ought to work better at getting those cabinets out.” Rein walked in the back door, his cheeks red from the brisk half-block walk to the hardware store. That, too, had been part of Sally Andersen’s past. Her dad had opened the store after moving to End of the Line. He’d thought a number of times of asking Rein about Sally—but the way gossip spread in this little town, he feared that given how things were between them, it would likely only make matters worse. Besides, he had no idea how long he’d stay around. Working at the ranch, helping Michael with the horses, even helping Rein with odd jobs like this wasn’t bad—for now. But he didn’t want to end up here for the rest of his life. Hell, he’d had plans to go pro in college. He had been the star quarterback. A twinge of a muscle in his thigh caught him off-guard and he gritted his teeth against the sudden pain.
“You okay, man? Do you need to sit down?”
“Stop it.”
“Hey, I’d say that to anyone.”
Clay held up his hand, holding in the darkness curling inside his brain. Some days, anger was too easy of a response. “It’ll pass. I’m getting used to this—he paused— “new leg.”
Rein eyed him. “Okay, well, I’m going to get started. I’d like to have the cabinets torn out by evening. With any luck, Tyler will have that new sink he ordered in by day after tomorrow.” He stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. “Damn, I forgot to tell Sally we’re going to have to shut off her water for a couple of days to reroute the pipes.” He sighed. I’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. She’s got enough on her plate right now.”
Not to mention seems a might tightly wrapped. He mentally added, knowing it sounded ironic coming from him.
He worked most of the day carrying the cabinets out to the one-car garage, stacking them neatly as Sally had ordered. She apparently never threw anything away. He stopped to survey the clutter that prevented the woman from actually using her garage. Boxes of old National Geographic magazines lined the shelves, along with stacks of yellowed Readers Digests. It was a junker’s dream. Parts of old lamps hung from the rafters. Dusty old board games were stacked on the shelves, shoved in at all angles. A variety of old tires and hubcaps sat in the corner, teetering like some
forgotten sculpture. He spied an old Victrola—seemed in fair condition from what he could see through the thick layer of dust.
“Here’s the last of them.”
The voice startled him and he turned to find Tyler Janzen. He stood at the garage entry balancing a cabinet in his arms.
“Hey, Tyler.” He tossed him a smile as he started to leave. Tyler was the only guy he knew that spoke less than him.
“Sal keeps everything. Says they remind her of moments in her life.” Tyler set the wall cabinet atop the others that Rein had brought in. He brushed his hands together, looking around as he spoke, though he hadn’t looked to see if Clay had even stayed.
Clay waited politely at the door, his curiosity to hear what Tyler knew about Sally piqued.
“Her dad was the same way. Pack rat. Lord, you should have seen the basement of the hardware store when he sold it.” He chuckled.
It was odd that Tyler should be so chatty and especially with him. Since coming to the ranch, Clay had done little to socialize with anyone. He enjoyed the physical labor the ranch offered him. He’d learned a great deal from working with the horses, finding empathy that they’d managed to survive their own brutal nightmares. It’d been enough for Clay. “That so?” he replied, hoping Tyler would go on. He glanced at the man. Nice enough guy, a little on the lanky side, but hard-working and honest from what Clay had noticed. Sally could do worse. He glanced away, slapping himself mentally for thinking he’d have any damn idea about what a woman needed. It’d been a year since his fiancée had left him. After that, he’d blocked out all women. Cut himself off. Convincing himself that he didn’t need that kind of intimacy, he didn’t think about how good it felt to have a woman curled against him at night. He eyed Tyler and scratched his cheek. Then again—she could do a whole helluva lot better. He slapped that notion right out of his head. “So, I hear you and Sally are going out.” It was casual conversation.
Tyler grinned and Clay swore his ears turned bright red, but the light was murky in the garage.
“Saturday night. Just dinner and the movies. Nothing special.”
Right. Clay hid a smile. It was clear the poor guy was head over applesauce for Sally. He hadn’t quite gotten that the feeling was all that mutual given her response at the diner. And it had been Rein who set the date up, not Tyler instigating it. Clay swiped his hand over his mouth, unsure why that should give him some semblance of satisfaction. “Hey, I’m sure you guys will have a great time.”
Tyler, who’d been flipping through an old magazine, looked up as though surprised to still see Clay standing there. “Oh, yeah, it’ll be great. I’ve been wanting to ask Sally out for a long time. Since high school, really.”
Clay blinked. The man had to be in his early thirties. “High school?”
Tyler shrugged. “Yeah, I guess with everything going on in her life, I just never found the right time.”
Thank God for your friend Rein, Clay thought. “That’s a long time to harbor a crush.”
Tyler tossed the magazine down. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure it’s such a great idea. But Rein thinks it’ll be fun and he said it’d be good for Sally to get out. She’s always working, and volunteering for stuff.”
Clay nodded. It seemed that Tyler, who, in the entire time Clay had lived here had never spoken more than three words to him, had seemingly been struck by a Victrola needle.
“You’ve dated women, right?” Tyler asked.
He wasn’t prepared for the odd question. “Uh, in college. Not too much since I came back home.”
Tyler’s gaze dropped to Clay’s leg. Though covered with his denim jeans and a rugged boot at the end, Clay felt as exposed as if he were stark naked.
“Yeah, sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Tyler nodded toward his artificial leg.
“Let’s be clear. It’s not because the equipment isn’t working. I was engaged before I went overseas and when I got home… well, let’s just say that my fiancée couldn’t handle the look of my artificial leg.” The truth was, it was more than that. His sudden mood swings and sitting in a dark room all day proved too much for her, and she left him. It was easier to blame the leg.
“I’ve been with women, you know.” Tyler cleared his throat. “But no one like Sally.”
This was not a conversation Clay wanted to get into. “Uh, hey, Rein is probably waiting for us. Maybe we should, you know, head back inside?” He slapped Tyler on the shoulder, the differences between their experiences like night and day. His, he wouldn’t wish on anyone.
Still, he knew exactly what he’d do with a woman like Sally, given the chance, while poor Tyler seemed hesitant on the subject. “Tyler, do you want to take Sally out?” he asked, feeling more like a big brother than a complete stranger. Clay could almost see the gears turning in Tyler’s head.
He snorted and shrugged. “She’s beautiful.”
Clay nodded. “She is that.”
“And smart. I mean really smart.”
“She is a teacher.”
He looked at Clay then, the honest concern in his eyes almost painful. “What do you suppose she’d see in a guy like me? I’m a plumber and a carpenter. I didn’t go to college. I was born and raised right here in End of the Line. I’ve never even been beyond the border of Montana, for God’s sake.”
Clay understood what feeling helpless was like. He didn’t know what in Tyler’s past had happened to spawn this lack of confidence. In all other areas of his life, he seemed perfectly competent. Then again, a woman like Sally would be like trying to rein in a wild mustang. She’d been running free, headstrong, and in charge for so long that she’d more than likely run roughshod over Tyler in less time than it took him to change a drain pipe. He had to cut the guy some slack. “Hey, you know women. Just be yourself. You know, do all the right things—open the door, hold her chair, look straight into her eyes when she speaks… it’ll be fine.”
Tyler chuckled. “Yeah, fine.”
“Yeah.” Clay nodded and headed back to work as fast as his legs would carry him. He couldn’t say why the thought of this impending date kept creeping into head in spite of his efforts to forget about his talk with Tyler. But for the first time in a while, he dreamt of a red-haired woman with gold-flecked eyes.
Chapter Two
Aimee pushed her head into Sally’s tiny office tucked into one corner of the choral room. “Hey, are we still on for tonight?”
Had it been a week since her meeting with Rein? She released a sigh. Thank goodness it was Friday. A teacher’s ultimate joy. Still, it had slipped her mind that they’d planned a girl’s night.
She looked up from the computer screen where she’d been designing a poster for the Buckle Ball. “Hey, can you come take a look at this?” She leaned back in her chair to give Aimee a better view.
Aimee stood behind her and studied the screen. “I like that. Is it me, or did this year just fly by? I can’t believe we’re already talking about this. Then again, the stores down in Billings are already stocking in Valentine’s Day and Easter stuff in the aisles.”
Traditionally, Sally ignored the first holiday and quietly spent the second visiting her dad’s grave on the hill at the Peaceful Lawns cemetery at the edge of town.
“Hey,” Aimee turned to her. “When is this double date? Do we need to reschedule for tonight?”
Sally shook her head. “No, we’ve postponed it until later. The weather turning cold this week caused some furnaces to go out. Tyler’s been working non-stop. I don’t even think he’s had time to remember to order my sink for my new island.”
“I’m sorry.” Aimee placed her hand on Sally’s shoulder.
Sally looked up at her. “I’m more concerned about the sink, to be honest.”
Aimee smiled. “Yep, looks like you need a girl’s night.”
“I’ve been working all week on lesson plans and this Buckle Ball. I really could use some help in coming up with candidates for the bachelor auction.”
“Great.�
�� Aimee patted her shoulder. “Let me text Liberty and Angelique.”
“I think the guys are still working on the kitchen, though. Maybe we could start someplace else?”
Aimee was already texting. “No problem. Let’s start at Dusty’s. I love his Southwest egg rolls and I haven’t had a real margarita in months.”
“Sounds good. Let me finish here and I need to stop and get gas before I meet you at Dusty’s, ok?”
Aimee paused and scanned one of the messages popping up in response. “Perfect. They’ll meet us in about forty minutes. I need to call Wyatt and let him know he’s on full duty as soon as Rebecca leaves. He knew we might go out tonight, so I think he’s invited Rein, Dalton, and Emilee to come over for supper and help. Emilee loves practicing being a big sister using Gracie. And I tell you, for a guy I thought would be a bachelor the rest of his life, Dalton Kinnison is the best father little Emilee could hope for. Ever since he found out Em was his, it’s changed him. The three of them make an adorable family and with the baby due in June, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him or Angelique happier.”
Sally rested her hand on her chin as she listened, thinking back to all the obstacles the Kinnison family had gone through this past year. “I know, and I can see the change in Emilee in class, as well. Having a mom and dad, with a brother on the way has just made her shine. It’s wonderful.”
Aimee nodded. Emilee had been in her class over a year ago, and been instrumental in helping Aimee when an accident stranded them at the ranch while on a field trip.
“See you in a bit, then.” Sally went back to her task, checking details on the poster design before she printed off a copy to show her friends. It still had to get the chamber’s approval, of course, and then they would see to it that it was dispersed in town and within a sixty-mile radius of End of the Line, including Billings. Proceeds from this year’s auction were slated for the Billings Women and Children’s shelter that Ellie had opened up less than a year ago. Ellie had helped Angelique Greyfeather get out of an abusive relationship back in Chicago and had become even closer when Angelique’s ex managed to escape from jail and nearly killed both Ellie and Angelique out of revenge. All turned out well after a precarious time spent in the hospital, but she and Dalton were finally married and had a second child on the way.
No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) Page 2