The Festival, Zan learned, took place annually the weekend before Thanksgiving. Everyone from the entire county converged on the small town of Paintbrush to partake in carnival rides and games. They even had, to Zan’s amazement, actual pie-eating contests and chili cook-offs. At first Zan had thought it seemed hokey, but the more involved she got, the more excited she was. The hometown feel of such an event thrilled her, despite the fact that she would have to sit in a dunking booth, in Wyoming, in the late fall, heated water or not.
“Maybe.” Jacob’s one-word comment confounded her. Why had he turned so distant?
“Oh, well then I guess maybe I will see you then,” she said as he pulled up in front of her house. It was best not to bother to invite him in. She was afraid that if he turned her down she wouldn’t be able to hide her disappointment, so better not to even broach the subject. “Thanks for dinner. I had a really good time.”
“Zan,” she heard him say as she was shutting the door.
“Yes?” She wrenched it back open and hoped he’d ask to come in.
“Good night.”
A lone tear ran down her cheek when she shut the door. She forced herself to walk slowly to the house and not dash off to her room to break down with the other tears that threatened to spill. Why did it feel like good-bye?
Chapter Eight
The second night of the festival, Zan’s stomach knotted with tension. She walked down Main Street with the hopes of relaxing. She still marveled at the transformation. What once looked like any small town, USA, with old brick buildings and wooden sidewalks, now looked like New Orleans during Mardi Gras. Colorful banners and balloons dotted the edges of buildings. Food and souvenir venders camped out in the middle of the main road. Many people littered the area, and laughter and merriment filled the air.
She stepped into a converted storeroom to change her clothes. A bouquet of paintbrush flowers permeated the air. A smile touched her lips when she read the card.
Who said we Walters are all wet? Have fun. Aunt Bonnie.
Leave it to her aunt to relieve some of her tension.
Despite the flowers and the excitement-charged night, Zan’s nerves warred. She’d run into Mrs. Cates at the grocers earlier that morning and learned after their two week cattle round up the men had returned. Jacob was home.
All day long she’d waited for Jacob to show up at the festival. All day long she was disappointed. The tepid water and frigid air every time someone hit the bull’s-eye snapped her mind away from him, but only for a moment. The remainder of the time her mind wandered back to two weeks before. What had gone wrong the night of their one and only date? What had sparked Jacob’s distance? Had she done something wrong? Had she said something he had taken offense to? She didn’t know and couldn’t ask him when he was high up in the Big Horn Mountains retrieving several hundred head of future Big Macs.
But he was home now. And she was determined to find out—if only she could hurry back out and catch him before her potty break was over.
As she struggled to pull the tight wetsuit her aunt had loaned her—where Aunt Bonnie got it, Zan couldn’t imagine—up over her calves, the hair on the back of her neck pricked. Like when someone is watching. Hoping to find Jacob, she turned and discovered Dale Holstrom leering at her from the doorway.
“Nice ass, babe.” Dressed in khakis and a navy button-down shirt, his blond hair neatly trimmed, he leaned with a shoulder pressed to the doorjamb. His blue eyes danced with mischief.
In another life, Zan might have found him attractive, but in this life, she only found him a nuisance.
Realizing her state of undress, Zan grabbed a towel from a chair beside her and covered her bikini-clad body, the wetsuit too tight to permit any other clothing underneath. “Get out.”
“Now, how is that to talk to a paying customer?” He flashed a wad of bills the size of his over-inflated ego. “I just wanted to sample the merchandise before it got too soggy.”
“I said get out, Dale. I need to get ready.” The wetsuit tangled at her thighs and waist preventing her from darting past him.
Dale stepped further into the room.
Anger burned in Zan’s chest. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“You.” He moved within arms reach. “You are just so damn cute when you’re mad. Your cheeks turn red.” He rubbed his knuckles across her face.
Zan held her breath to keep from smacking his hand away.
“Now, on to the fun stuff. Let’s see what’s under that towel.” He winked then tugged on the edge of her terrycloth shield.
She gritted her teeth and clenched the towel tighter. “Get out or I’ll scream.”
“It’s so noisy out there who’s going to hear you?” He wrapped his hand around the top of the towel. A wicked smile crooked the corner of his mouth.
Over the scent of his high-priced cologne, Zan detected traces of alcohol. The only thing worse than an egotistical jerk was a drunken egotistical jerk.
To think she hadn’t pressed charges against him before. Well no more. She shoved him back, making him break his hold and trip over his own feet.
His momentum knocked him into a chair. His eyes widened briefly before he reached for her again. “You little bitch. I’m going to…”
“Zan, five minutes.” Missy knocked and pushed open the door. “Hey. What the hell are you doing?” She turned and yelled out the door, “Daddy, can you come here?”
Dale lowered his arm before Hank got to the room. “No need. We’re through. For now.” The last two words he whispered to Zan. She didn’t doubt him for a second.
The moment he went through the door, Zan’s knees gave out. She collapsed in a heap of terrycloth and latex and trembled violently. Missy ran to her side. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
Zan shook her head.
“What’s the matter, girl?” Hank asked from the doorway, his breath came in rapid beats. “Was that Dale I just saw leaving here?”
“Missy, please don’t tell your dad,” Zan whispered harshly, her eyes wide. “Please.”
Missy looked at her for a moment. The mental debate warred on her face. “We’re fine, Daddy. Can you tell Bonnie Zan’s going to need another ten minutes?”
“Uh, sure. You sure everything’s fine?”
“Yeah, zippers stuck that’s all,” Missy lied to her father for Zan.
He eyed both women a moment. The look on his face said he didn’t believe it, but he shut the door and left without another word.
“Thank you.” Zan wrapped her arms around her chest and tried to control the tremors. “I’ll be okay in a minute.”
“Zan, you can’t let him get away with bullying you like that. What if I hadn’t come in when I did?”
She didn’t even want to consider that possibility.
“You need to tell Sheriff Reese.”
She didn’t answer.
“Zan.” Missy’s warning tone brought her eyes up. The younger woman had true concern in her eyes.
“I will, I promise. Just not right this minute.” She remembered the last time someone apprised the sheriff of Dale’s actions. She rubbed her upper arms, long since healed of her bruises, but still she shuddered. Dale frightened her this time. Truly, truly frightened her. She refused to let herself think of what he might be capable of doing. She was barely holding on by a thread as it was.
“Well, then at least tell Jacob now.”
“Tell me what?”
Zan’s head whipped around. Jacob stood in almost the exact same position Dale had not ten minutes earlier. Instead of hostility and lechery, his face held only delight and a warm smile.
A relieved breath whooshed out her lungs. Her heart leapt in her chest threatening to burst free. She nearly cried she was so happy to see him. God, she had missed him. Seeing his face, those chocolate eyes, she wanted never to move from that spot. Funny what love will do to a woman.
Love?
When had her feelings changed to love? She di
dn’t know. Didn’t care much either. She loved him. Jacob Bowman. Her heart swelled at the notion. And that didn’t frighten her as much as it would have a few months earlier.
“Aren’t you due out there now?” he asked.
She studied his face. In the two weeks since she’d seen him, he seemed to have changed. Granted his hair was a bit shaggier and his face showed the effects of being outdoors, but there was something else. Something she couldn’t quite place.
“Stuck zipper. We’re working on it,” Missy said from beside Zan, feigning tugging on the zipper even though the wetsuit lay in a heap between them.
Zan couldn’t speak, only nodding in agreement.
“Oh. Okay.” His smile faded a bit and his brow scrunched. “Is something wrong, Zan?”
She shook her head. What must her face look like? She really was happy to see him, thrilled in fact. Judging by his expression, hers must be grim.
“Scoot, she needs to get dressed.” Missy ushered him out the door. It shut with a slight clap.
Zan closed her eyes. “I know exactly what you’re thinking. I should have told Jacob. I handled that badly, but I just couldn’t right now.” She opened her eyes.
Missy stood with her hands on her skinny hips. “As long as we both know what I was thinking.”
———
Jacob watched for an hour as Zan plunged time and time again into the murky dunk tank water. People from surrounding counties stood with their balloons and an assortment of stuffed animals and clapped wildly when the bell dinged, announcing Zan’s fate.
Every star in the dark night came to watch her, too. A cool air blew through the grounds, circulating the tantalizing smell of turkey legs, grilled sweet corn and cotton candy, but his mouth only watered for one thing. Zan. Despite the lights from the rides and booths casting an eerie glow on the tank, making it look ominous, the water half in shadows, Zan looked beautiful.
Her face beamed, the smile never faltering. He wished he could say the same about the look on her face when she had seen him standing in her dressing room. She was stunned at best, and at worst she was downright disappointed to see him.
It was his own damn fault. The night before he left on the round-up, he had tried to put distance between them, frightened by his suddenly fierce desire to make Zan Walters his. Obviously, he had managed to do just that, but over the past two weeks, he thought of nothing but Zan. More shocking than realizing he was falling for Zan was the fact that he could fall for Zan.
When his mother had walked out on him and his dad twenty-four years before, his heart had dried up, shriveled to the possibility of love. He had opened it some, years before, only to let Trisha stomp on it too. It had scabbed over so thick nothing could penetrate the scarred surface. He never even considered the “happily ever after” scenario associated with his life, but now, with Zan, all things seemed within reach—all things possible. Just in the short time, she had done that for him, to him.
He never believed in love at first sight either. Although he wasn’t sure that was what hit him when he’d walked into the diner, but he would definitely call it lust at first sight. Then as he got to know her, learned more and more about her, the feelings for her grew and transformed into something remarkable.
Maybe he could fall in love after all.
“Hey, boy. I been looking for you.” Hank sidled up next to Jacob. “I should have known I’d find you within spittin’ distance of that girl.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hank. I’m just getting a soda.” Jacob pulled his wallet out and took three steps to the food vender. Even though a drink was the last thing on his mind, he took a sip after the high schooler handed him…whatever it was. He tried to hide his face as he nearly choked on the lemon-lime soda. “See.”
Hank snorted. “He’s still been giving her trouble.” Hank motioned to Dale, who stood at the head of the line, waving a handful of bills. “I was waiting on Missy to tell Zan to hurry up before her shift. She started hollering for me like nothing else. When I come running in there he was waltzing out of the room with his look. You know, that ‘I’m entitled’ look.”
Jacob’s heart pounded and his breathing increased. “What was going on?”
“Don’t rightly know. She was all wrapped up in a towel. Looked to me like she had nothing more than her birthday suit on. And Dale had on his misbehavin’ grin. Missy said stuck zipper, but I don’t think so.”
Jacob’s stomach rolled with the soda. “That’s why she was acting so weird.”
“What was that, boy?” Hank asked.
“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Thinking out loud. I’ve gotta… I’ll see you around.” Jacob tossed his full drink in the garbage can and moved closer to the dunking booth to keep his eye on Dale.
———
“Your arm getting tired yet?” Zan yelled through the Plexiglas at her opponent.
“Nope, I’m just getting warmed up.” A thwack and Zan plunged into the frigid water following Dale’s answer. He had hit fifteen in a row, paying five dollars a pop. She’d hit an all-time low. His malicious grin grew every time she emerged from the murky tank water.
She vowed then and there to find a way to get even with her aunt.
She caught sight of Jacob off to the side. He frowned, staring at Dale, his stance hostile. He looked ready to challenge the other man, but she couldn’t let him fight her battle.
As she climbed onto the dunking booth bench, an idea hit her. She stood on the wooden seat. With one hand on the edge of the Plexiglas wall, she stretched up on her tiptoes so her voice could carry out of the tank. “Hey, Dale, I’ll wager you a bet.”
Dale lowered his arm, poised to sink her again. “Yeah? What?”
The people that milled about focused their attention on her. She already regretted her decision to turn the tables on Dale. The money the carnival-type attractions collected went to the farmers fund to help those in the community in need financially, whether from drought or infestations or divorce. He was hitting the mark time and again, spending Daddy’s bankroll, even if it was for a good cause, but she wanted someone else to have a chance. The festival was supposed to be family-fun not the perverse pleasure he was taking.
“How much have you spent, seventy-five, eighty bucks? Put up eighty more and I’ll bet you I can dunk you.” The buzz of the crowd grew.
Dale rubbed his chin with the back of his hand still holding the ball. “What do I get if you miss?” He moved to the side of the tank; his Cheshire grin widened.
The sparkle in his eye unnerved her. She could be asking for big trouble.
There was no “could be”. She was playing with fire. Looking out into the crowd, hoping not to see the hunger on Dale’s face, she saw Jacob turn toward her. Disbelief and anger clouded his usually calm face. Even from the distance, she saw his jaw twitch from grinding his teeth, but she couldn’t stop now.
Water ran rivulets down her face and neck. Coupled with the slight wind, chills spiked through her. She ignored the discomfort. She swallowed hard. “Wh…what do you want?”
His laugh vibrated in her ears and he stepped closer. “I don’t have to tell you that do I?” His voice was so low she could barely hear him. Could the others around tell what he was saying? Judging by Jacob’s casual posture, she doubted it.
When she didn’t comment he went on as if she didn’t know what he meant. “You, me, out on the town. One night. To let things…happen. And they will. Then we’ll call it even.”
She saw Jacob take a step toward them, but she held him off with a slight shake of her head. All she needed was for Jacob to take down Dale Holstrom in the middle of the festival. She could handle Dale. She had to. Because his “even” was about more than one throw of the baseball. He was talking about her embarrassing him not once but several times now. He wanted payback—in skin.
She had known how, what, he would ask for. Hearing him say the words aloud turned her stomach, but it was too late to back down. “If I agree to your�
��terms…” She wanted to choke on the word, but she raised her voice in defiance instead. “You have to double the money.”
“Uh-uh. No deal.”
“I’ll make it harder.” Dale’s grin dipped and his eyebrows rose. Zan cleared her throat. “More difficult. I’ll step back, oh say, another thirty feet. And dunk you. With one try.”
Silence fell over the growing crowd.
She looked for Jacob. She needed his—what—approval? Support? She couldn’t decide, but she wanted to know he was still there. When she saw him leaning up against a trash can, his eyes focused on Dale, she had to continue before she lost her nerve. Her voice barely above a whisper, again. “And if I hit it, then we are dead even. No more groping me. No more innuendos.”
“Yeah, sure, fine. Whatever. Like you’ll make it.” Dale laughed the whole way to the other side of the booth.
He stood at the bottom of the ladder while she climbed down. “Like I said earlier, nice ass. And after tonight, it will be all mine.” As if trying to prove his point, he skimmed his finger down the wetsuit. Bile rose in her throat again.
Dale tried to grope her bottom two more times while she explained how the mechanism was operated. She swatted his hand away and gritted her teeth to hold her temper in check. She was glad Jacob hadn’t seen. He would never stand for Dale touching any woman that way—deep down, she hoped he had more feelings about her than any woman—and the last thing he needed was to get into an altercation with Dale.
Dale situated, Zan walked over to the throwing line then backed up thirty paces.
She had one ball and one shot at stopping his manhandling and over-inflated ego. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She pulled the ball in close to her chest and opened her eyes to focus on the target. One…two…three…
“Zan!”
She about peed in her pants. “What, Jacob?”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes I do.”
“Can you handle paying up if you lose?”
Second Chances Page 7