by Suzanne Cass
He showed her how to swing the snowmobile around and back it into the slot next to his. She struggled to turn hers, but held up her hand to ward him off when he made to come and help her, determined to do this by herself. He stood back and watched, liking the little grunting noises she made as she dug her heels into the dirt and maneuvered the heavy machine.
With a satisfied smile, she looked up when she finally got it parked just right and turned it off. His heart did a strange double-thump in his chest. They went out and got another snowmobile each to bring in. Cat and Levi were at the back of the workshop when they brought the next two in, rearranging some snowmobiles to get them exactly to Cat’s liking. Everyone else had left. He swung his machine into place and then watched as Stella navigated this one with more ease.
But as she backed it in next to his, she let out a little cry of pain. “Zut,” she muttered.
His head whipped around. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she said, looking at him with a guilty tilt to her mouth.
But it wasn’t nothing, she was nursing her left hand.
“What did you do?” He was already reaching for her, tugging off her glove.
“I jammed my little finger between the two handlebars. It’s nothing, really.” But she didn’t pull back, instead, letting him turn her hand over so he could inspect the damage to her bare finger. Removing his gloves, he could feel her hands were icy, despite the protection of her own gloves.
He winced as he saw a large blood blister already forming on the side of her finger. That would’ve hurt. Gently probing, he moved the joints around to make sure nothing was broken. She winced, but didn’t pull away. At least she wasn’t screaming, which was a good sign nothing was damaged.
To keep her mind off what he was doing, he asked her quietly, “What was that word you said just then? Was it some kind of French swear word?”
“What? You mean zut?” She giggled as she said the word, and he nodded. “It means…how would you say it?” She tilted head up as if trying to find the right word. “Perhaps something like shucks.”
“Ah, I thought you’re going to teach me a really cool new French swear word. I mean, everyone’s heard merde, but I’d never heard of that one before.”
He put her chilly hand between his two, much warmer ones, and held them up to his mouth, blowing warm air over her frozen fingers. His lips rested gently against the side of her hand as he stared down into her leaf-green eyes. It was only then he realized how close they were standing. Face still flushed a tantalizing pink from the cold, she sucked in her bottom lip as she watched what he was doing. Tendrils of mahogany hair coiled out from beneath her knit cap. He brushed one of them aside, feeling the softness of her cheek. His gaze found her lips, and despite himself, he couldn’t look away, fascinated by the way her mouth curled up. Rose-red and glistening as her tongue darted out and then back in again. The memory of kissing those lips, of the tiny sound she made when she opened to invite him in, came back to light a fire deep in his gut.
He leaned in to taste her, unable to stop himself. She stood on tiptoe, meeting him halfway. Injury forgotten, he dropped her hand so he could pull her in tighter.
She made that slight sound, a cross between a whimper and a groan as he claimed her lips and his guts contracted. That sound drove all the way to his core, lighting his blood on fire and making him want to find the nearest bed and throw her onto it.
She opened her mouth, tempting him to go deeper. His hand went around her slim waist, nestling in the small of her back, bringing her closer. He closed his eyes and let the moment overtake him. She was sweet like strawberries and cream. But there was also something darker, a hunger he hadn’t felt during their first kiss.
A noise from nearby had him suddenly remembering where they were. Wyatt quickly glanced up. Cat and Levi were both still at the rear of the work-shed, arguing about the right way to park the snowmobiles. Their backs were turned, their heads together in conversation. Wyatt wondered if they’d seen anything. Cat would be sure to let him know if she had soon enough, anyway.
Stella looked up and drew in a shaky breath. “Oh, wow. I couldn’t…” She didn’t finish her sentence, merely stared up at him, a mixture of yearning and confusion in her eyes.
Before their moment could be completely stolen away, Wyatt said the first thing that came to him. “I’d like to make you dinner one night.”
What had he just said? He was asking Stella on a date. And wouldn’t that make Cat happy? But he was prepared to put up with her smug smile, if only Stella would say yes. It was against his better wisdom. And who knew where it would lead? All he truly recognized was that he needed to see her again. Back when they’d been snowbound in the truck together, she’d been fascinated by the fact he loved to cook and that he worked at CJ’s Burger joint. He’d promised that he’d cook for her one day. And this might be his chance.
“Really?” A slow smile spread across her gorgeous face.
Was that a yes or no? Wyatt held his breath.
She cocked her head to the side. “I’d like to taste your cooking.”
He thought that might be a yes. “What about tomorrow night?”
Her face crumpled into a frown. “I’m scheduled on all week for dinner service. It’s opening week, so many guests will be checking in.”
His mind raced. “What time do you normally finish?”
Stella pursed her lips. “Most of the guests have finished by half-past eight. I could ask Violet to cover for me after that.”
“That’s perfect.” Wyatt could work around that. It wasn’t ideal, he’d rather have an early dinner and show her the sunset, but he could still make this work. “I’ll come and pick you up. We’ll make it a quick dinner, I promise.” He knew she’d need to be back to start her shift early the next morning.
“Okay…that would be lovely.” She only hesitated for a split second before her smile returned, but it was enough to make Wyatt wonder. Had she been thinking about the fiancé? He tried to put that out of his mind. It’d definitely be a topic of conversation on their date—if that’s what it was. They needed to clear the air once and for all, if this was to go any further. He wasn’t the type of man to date another guy’s chick. That wasn’t his style. But this was one dinner, and no more. No expectations, no promises. A bit of fun, for once.
“I’ll walk you down to the lodge,” he said, taking her hand and helping her replace her glove.
He turned his head toward the other couple. “See you down at the truck.” Cat waved vaguely in his direction and he turned back to Stella. “You should put some ice on your finger. It’ll help stop any further swelling.”
“Thank you, I’ll do that.” She looked at him and then swung her gaze away. But not before he saw all the questions in her eyes. They were the same questions echoing around his head. They walked in companionable silence, down the small hill and up to the rear of the lodge. There were still signs left over from all the construction that’d taken place. It would take a while for the new sections to weather in, so they looked like the rest of the buildings. But Dean, with the contractor’s help, had done an outstanding job; if you didn’t know any better, you almost wouldn’t see where the new met the old.
“How’s the new kitchen turning out?” he asked, as they stopped by the back door.
“It’s much better than the old one. Joseph helped the designer get it perfect. I love the huge, new gas stove, we can cook up to eight dishes at a time.” He’d clearly asked the right question, as the words gushed out of Stella’s mouth. He liked to watch her animated face, the way she talked with her hands, as well as her eyes. “Although, I miss the beautiful old table we used to sit around having our meals. I think it might’ve belonged to Dean’s grandfather. It had a history, you know? Dean had another one especially built, and it suits the kitchen better, perhaps. But…”
Wyatt had never seen the old table, he arrived back in town around the same time as Preston had attacked the lodge
. He could see what Stella was trying to say, however. The French had a long history. It seemed she liked things that held a certain antiquity.
“But it doesn’t have the same sentimental value,” he finished for her.
“That’s exactly it.” Her beaming smile told him he’d hit the nail on head.
“Well, I’d better get to the truck. I’ve got a shift tonight at CJ’s.” He hoped Cat would be down soon to drive him into town. If not, she could explain to Bryce why he was late for work.
“Thank you for the snowmobile ride, Wyatt.”
“No problems. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Yes, tomorrow,” she agreed.
He turned to go, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him in, kissing him gently on both cheeks in the French way.
“Au revoir, Wyatt.”
Oh, sweet Jesus, that accent was going to drive him crazy with desire.
Five minutes later, as Cat drove—with an annoyingly smug smile on her face—Wyatt sat staring out the side window. The conversation at the barbecue played on his mind. Tony had never shown up yesterday to collect his package. Which’d left Wyatt unsettled. Tony was unreliable and unpredictable, and so Wyatt had shrugged it off. But this news of two strangers in town made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Could they be connected? Wyatt would love to have seen the photo those two were showing around. Who were they looking for? Why hadn’t Tony shown up? He’d taken the extreme chance of stealing a car to come out and demand his package back, which demonstrated desperation. But then hadn’t come to collect it when he said he would. It was more than a little odd. Had Tony got wind of something going down?
Wyatt had Tony’s backpack stashed in his bedroom, unsure whether to return it to its hiding place or wait until Tony showed up.
Perhaps it was time to take a look at whatever was in that bag.
CHAPTER FIVE
STELLA SWIPED A hand across her sweaty brow. Zut. It was already twenty minutes past eight. Wyatt would be here soon. She still had to stack all the dishes into the dishwasher, and then she had to go and get changed. She couldn’t go out like this, with splotches of pasta sauce on her T-shirt, and her face red with perspiration from rushing around the heated kitchen.
At least the dinner service was over. When people visited the country, they seemed to become hungry earlier. In France, they rarely ate until nine or ten o’clock, especially during summer. But here, in the dead of winter, people were getting ready for their bed by then.
Roxanne, one of the waitresses, came in with a handful of plates and dumped them on the counter. “Don’t you have to get fixed up for your big date?”
What? Did everybody know she was going to dinner with Wyatt? How had they found out? Stella glanced sideways, and it all became crystal clear. Violet was busily pretending to ignore them, as she plated up the last two pieces of apple pie.
“Here you go,” she said to Roxanne. “Service up.”
“Enjoy your date,” Roxanne sang loudly as she went through the door and into the restaurant.
“Violet,” Stella growled. “I asked you to keep it a secret. I don’t need everybody knowing my business.” Especially not when they still thought she had a fiancé. What must they think of her?
“I only told Roxanne,” Violet said, not quite meeting Stella’s eye.
There was a beat of silence while Stella stared at her.
“And maybe Janine. But that’s all, I swear.”
Stella let out an agitated breath. Janine was the other waitress. Between the two of them, they’d probably told the whole ranch by now.
“But Roxy is right, you need to go, or you’ll be late.” Violet made shooing motions with her hands. “I’ve got this; go on, off you go. Quick, before Joseph comes back and finds something else for you to do.” They both glanced in unison at the door to the restaurant. Joseph was currently out on the floor, doing his nightly rounds. He liked to talk to the guests and was at his obsequious best, charming them all.
How could Stella stay mad at Violet? After all, she was doing her a big favor by staying late to finish up for her. And she was right; if she went now, she could make good her escape.
“Thank you, Violet.” She whipped off her apron and dunked it in the wash basket. Then, she grabbed her coat from the hook in the hall, and was still pulling it on as she went out the back door. How was she ever going to get used to this cold weather? It took her breath away as she jogged the short distance between the lodge and the single-staff quarters. It was freezing out here, after the heat of the kitchen. She hoped Wyatt had somewhere warm and private in mind for dinner.
A shiver of anticipation went through her.
Having dinner with Wyatt—she didn’t want to call it a date, because she wasn’t sure that’s what it was, yet—was still hard to believe.
Harder to accept was how she’d broken up with Armand last night. She’d called him on her cell. Lyon was eight hours ahead of Montana, so it was late when she spoke to him. The time difference was one more thing making communication difficult.
At least she had the guts to tell him over the phone. Not like him, sending cowardly texts, making half-hearted threats and nasty jibes. His final text, where he’d threatened to call off the engagement if she didn’t come home, had been the last straw.
The door to the staff quarters loomed, and she stomped the snow from her sneakers before turning the handle to go inside.
Five minutes. That’s all the time she had to get ready. She’d already planned what she was going to wear tonight, and it was laid out on her single bed, in the room she shared with Penny. Jeans and a pink, cashmere sweater. It was warm and practical, but she also knew the color set off her green eyes.
She went into the bathroom, splashed water on her face, brushed her hair, and pulled it into the loose top knot she always wore. Back in the bedroom she changed and then quickly applied some foundation to cover the worst of the scar on her forehead and then a touch of light-pink lip gloss.
Armand had not been happy. He’d shouted, something he seldom ever did. Even calling her a putain, a whore. Which was completely out of line and uncharacteristic. Armand rarely stooped to that sort of language. She’d tried to remain cool and logical, the opposite to his heat and anger.
It hurt that she’d hurt him. He didn’t deserve it. Armand had only ever been good to her. He couldn’t help the way he was. He couldn’t help it if she’d outgrown him. But when she said that old cliche line, it’s not you, it’s me, he’d hung up in disgust. Perhaps when he cooled down, he might admit there were some grains of truth in what she’d said. They weren’t suited. All he wanted was to settle down, have a family, and grow his patisserie into a franchise. Which were all wonderful goals. But none of them made her heart beat faster.
She smudged her lip gloss and cursed. Grabbing a tissue, she wiped it off and started again.
Armand had asked her if there was someone else. She denied it. Because he was only looking for another excuse for her change of heart. He couldn’t bear to think he was the problem. Wyatt wasn’t the reason she was breaking up with Armand. If she was truthful, she might admit he was the catalyst, but he wasn’t the reason. Stella had moved to Montana in a bid to widen the gap between her and Armand. She hadn’t been happy with him, even back in France. This’d been coming for a long time.
What would Wyatt think when she told him? If she told him. This was all too new, and…bewildering. She wasn’t sure if there was anything there with Wyatt. And even if there was, he had a past that scared her a little. Even Wyatt admitted his time in jail had changed him. But Stella liked to believe everyone deserved another chance. Everyone had some good in them. You had to dig deeper to find it in some people, that was all.
The sound of the front door opening drifted down the hallway to her bedroom, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced at her cell phone. It was eight-forty.
Zut. She was late. Her bulky, Stargazer coat lay on her bed, but she peered into her closet, t
rying to decide which jacket would be better tonight. She’d brought a long, black jacket with her from France, it was from Musier, and she hadn’t had a chance to wear it yet. Remembering just how cold it was out there, Stella finally erred on the side of practicality, and picked up the Stargazer coat. All the staff were issued with one; it had the Stargazer Ranch logo on the back. When she wore it, it made her feel like she was part of the team, even if she hardly ever went outside.
She bounced down the hall and rounded into the shared lounge area. There was Wyatt, sitting on the couch, waiting for her. He was wearing the same black, sheepskin jacket and black jeans he’d had on yesterday; it seemed to be his signature outfit. Although, tonight, he also had a gray hoodie on underneath the jacket. He looked outdoorsy and mysterious, and sexy as hell.
A slow smile curved his lips upward as he took her in. “You look nice.” His gaze tumbled from top of her head to the tip of her toes. His expression sent a shiver down her spine. There was dark hunger in his eyes. She liked that he appreciated the view.
“Where are we going tonight?” She was suddenly flustered, asking the first thing that came to mind.
“I’m taking you back to my place.”
That was interesting. She hid her surprise with a bright grin. “Oh, great.”
“I hope you don’t mind?” he said, as if catching her slight hesitation. “I’ve got a picnic planned.”
Wow, he was full of surprises. She held up her Stargazer coat. “Lucky I’ve brought this then.”
“And your hat and gloves, too?”
She patted one of her coat pockets. “I always keep them in here. Shall we go?” She waited while he stood and then preceded him out the door. One thing was for sure, Wyatt was unpredictable. That was one of the reasons she was drawn to him. She would never have guessed in her wildest dreams their dinner would include a picnic, at night, in the middle of winter. Life wasn’t dull with Wyatt around. And she was invariably up for something new.
There was silence in the cab for the first few minutes of the drive. But Stella was getting used to Wyatt’s taciturn ways, and she began to chat about her workday, telling him how Joseph had yelled at her for spilling the crackers all over the floor. Her mother used to say that she would natter on about nonsense, but Stella didn’t mind. It was true; she liked to fill a silence. Perhaps that showed a lack of self-confidence, who knew? But Wyatt didn’t seem to mind. He even gave her an encouraging smile, now and then. And it was better for her to chatter away, rather than let thoughts of how she and Wyatt had lain together on this very bench seat in his truck all night. Even though nothing had happened between them, it still bought heat to her cheeks to remember the intimacy of being curled up together, trying to stay warm.