She was really here.
And she was smiling. That was a rarity these days, but coming to Wishing Springs was the first step in making more smiles a possibility.
Though she didn’t think she deserved it, she knew that she had to believe she did. Had to somehow fight to forgive herself and force herself to reach for a new start.
A new life. But when your old life had died—an early, tragic death—the thought of moving forward wrapped torture and need into one untidy, painful package.
Her hand shook as she took a long swig of the warm liquid. Pushing away the echo of guilt ringing at the end of that thought . . . knowing she was partly to blame. Her therapist had talked her off this ledge. Abby had to let it go . . .
She’d come here to find hope like Maggie was always urging readers to do in her columns.
Coming here was exactly what I needed.
“Yes, it was,” she whispered decisively. But did she deserve a new start . . .
Release it, give it to God. She closed her eyes and handed it over one more time.
But, like always, it wasn’t as easy to do as it was to verbalize. Guilt clung to her thoughts, determined to sabotage her. And feelings of unworthiness smothered her.
Landon would want her to move on, to find happiness again. He would and she’d even dreamed of him getting angry with her because she wasn’t trying. She blinked away tears.
Stop using me as an excuse to give up on life. She could almost hear him speaking aloud despite only being in her heart. In her dreams . . .
A shudder moved through her. She stood. It was time to get moving.
She crossed to the office of the motel to officially check in and thank Ms. Hanover for her kindness last night. She needed to do it before Bo Monahan came to pick her up.
The dainty tinkle of a glass bell announced her arrival and the familiar, sweet aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies welcomed her—Pebble must bake all the time. Bo had been right, the cookies in her room were divine.
A wisp of a woman with a gentle smile and soft eyes of blue rose from the pastel floral armchair in the corner. She placed her knitting project in the seat and came Abby’s way.
“Good morning, you must be Abby,” she said with warmth. “I’m Pebble Hanover.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am. You were so kind last night. The cookies were fantastic. I’m sorry I got in so late—”
Pebble’s smile widened. “You had a day of it, didn’t you? Jarrod told me they were going to take you back to your car this morning. I hope it’s not hurt too terribly much.” She walked behind the counter.
“I’m really not sure about how bad, though it must need some repair. Bo’s coming to pick me up in a moment.”
Pebble pushed the ledger forward. “You could sign in any time. I’m in no rush, but since you’re here, why don’t we take care of it? Was the room satisfactory? I put you in my favorite room—the one with the hummingbirds. Do you like it?”
Abby did love this, no computer, no technology, just a ledger and old-fashioned hospitality. “The room is perfect. I love the hummingbird pattern and the colors. It’s very peaceful. I noticed you have a lot of hummingbird feeders around.”
“Yes, I do love the pretty little things. My husband and I almost named the motel Hummingbird Cottages when we bought it way back when . . .” She sighed. “But they really aren’t restful. They’re so busy they’ll keep you awake watching them if you’re not careful, so we went with Sweet Dreams Motel instead. It does have a ring to it.”
“Yes, ma’am, it does. I slept very well.” She didn’t mention that for her, sleeping well was equivalent to maybe four straight hours and then several restless hours fighting memories.
“That Bo is a very nice young man. Have you seen the stirrups he makes? They’re works of art. Just beautiful.”
“I’ve heard of them. I saw him holding a pair during that TV interview with Maggie Hope. I haven’t seen them up close.”
“Then you should have him show you where he makes them when he comes to pick you up.”
Abby wasn’t sure she wanted to spend any more time with Bo than necessary. She heard a vehicle outside and glanced out the window. Her pulse did a somersault seeing him pull to a halt in front of the office. Her brows knitted at the reaction.
“There he is,” Pebble told her, looking at Abby with expectation. “Aren’t you going to go?”
Her feet felt glued to the floor all of a sudden. “Yes. I mean, I am. Did you need me for anything else?”
“You are free to go. I hope all is well with your car.”
“Thank you.” Abby didn’t move, though.
“He won’t bite, dear. At least I don’t think so,” Pebble added with a chuckle.
“No, I just hesitated because I wanted to ask you if I could have the recipe to those cookies when I get back?” Abby thought that was a pretty good save. However, the twinkle in Pebble’s eyes told her the older woman knew exactly what she was doing.
“Of course you can. Come see me anytime and I’ll print it for you.” Abby forced a smile. Heading out the door, she paused when Pebble came around the counter. “Is there anything I can do for you?” Pebble asked.
The question had Abby turning back to find concern in Pebble’s expression. “I may be a stranger, but I’ve been through some hard times and something tells me you have too. If you ever need to talk, I’m a good listener,” Pebble continued.
Was it still so obvious to others that she’d had something go wrong in her life? Abby’s heart thundered at the thought. Landon always had said all of her emotions were written on her face. “No. I’m fine.”
“Well, good,” Pebble said, though Abby could see she wasn’t convinced. To her relief, the sweet lady let it go. “About the cookies. I’m baking a lot tomorrow for Over the Rainbow. That’s the home for unwed mothers on the outskirts of town. I take cookies out there and spend time with them on game night. You could help me bake them if you have any free time, and join me out there, if you’d like.”
Abby hesitated, then pushed herself. “I need to get this car situation sorted out and see about finding a place to rent. But maybe . . . I’ll talk to you later.” She finally headed outside. Her stomach cartwheeled the instant she saw Bo. Unsettling on so many levels.
The man was here to pick her up because of her car. She’d go out there, get her car or at least deal with it for insurance, and then she would come back to the motel and head to the real estate office.
End of story.
“You’re right on time.” Abby was at the passenger door and inside before Bo had realized she was coming out of the office instead of the bungalow.
“Um, I try to be.” Bo opened his door, climbed inside, and shot her a grin. To be honest, the grin showed up automatically. Looking at her just made him smile. “You sure are in a hurry this morning,” he drawled, hoping today he didn’t cause those pretty eyes to grow troubled.
“No. Just anxious to see my car.” She buckled her seatbelt. “I mean, you know, to make sure everything’s okay.”
“Sure.” He obliged by backing out, turning the rig toward the exit. “We got it out of the ditch this morning, but that metal stake in the radiator means a trip to the shop for certain. Charlie can come out with his wrecker and take it in to his shop in town if that’s agreeable to you. He’s qualified.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped. “Well, thank y’all. That’s fine to call Charlie.”
She was quiet as he pulled out onto the hardtop. Bo figured some women might have gotten mad about something like that. Or upset. But she didn’t seem to be either, at least not after her initial disappointment. Was that the word? Or troubled? With the way the line between her eyes deepened into a fence post, he’d say troubled was the correct assumption.
He sure was—the woman had interrupted his sleep, she’d been on his mind so long. He’d tossed and turned and was up drinking his morning coffee long before the rooster crowed. Which wasn’t abnormal,
just he hadn’t had a woman on his mind like this in a very long time.
There was something about her that hit him in the gut every time he looked at her. Heck, every time he thought of her.
Stealing a sidelong glance at her, he figured he could just stare at her all day. It was ridiculous. He was a grown man and not some pimple-faced teenager with his first crush. He didn’t have time to sit stargazing and mooning over a female like a kid. Curiosity. That was part of the attraction. He was intrigued by her . . . there was something elusive there and he wanted to know more. That thought at least relieved him some, helping justify a little of his infatuation.
“So what has you thinking of movin’ to Wishing Springs?” He tapped the steering wheel with his fingers. What if she said she was here to find a husband? She’d said she read Maggie’s columns and now she was here. That didn’t bode well.
She clasped her hands in her lap. “I needed a change of scenery.”
“Scenery?” Relief surged through him. He just hadn’t been able to see her as some woman-crazed man hunter. “Seems kinda drastic for scenery.”
“I guess that’s not exactly the right word. I’m here to make a fresh start. People do that, you know.”
“Well, sure they do.” He glanced at her. What did that statement mean?
That she’s looking for a husband, what else?
So she was one of those gals hunting a husband after all.
Bo’s opinion of her took a dive. There was only one kind of woman who would load up and move to a town to find a husband—
A desperate one.
One with problems or baggage so deep finding a husband the regular way was out of the question—that’s what.
He was jumping to conclusions. She hadn’t actually said she was looking for a husband.
“So, you own the ranch with your brothers?”
Her question came from natural curiosity, he told himself. She’d seen that TV special. Everyone knew they all owned the Four of Hearts Ranch. Wariness tightened like a steel band around his lungs and he kept his gaze focused on the road ahead of him. “Yes. With Jarrod and Tru.”
“I thought that was so sweet how Maggie and Tru fell in love during that bet.”
He shot her a glance, saw her eyes brighten almost dreamily as she smiled. He bit back a groan of disappointment and pinned his gaze once more to the road. A few silent moments later he spotted Jarrod standing beside Abby’s car as they drew near.
Bo exited the truck the moment he pulled to a halt and rammed the shift into park. He wanted some distance and he wanted it now.
“Good morning,” Jarrod said as they reached him. He tipped his hat at Abby and she smiled sweetly—again.
Bo studied that smile, trying to detect any fakeness to it. Trying to find any calculation or manipulation.
At least he wasn’t looking at her like she was the first rain after a drought anymore. Which was a good thing, since his brother would have ribbed him to no end if he’d kept that up. Not that Jarrod did a lot of that these days. He was pretty wrapped up in keeping the ranch running. He’d grown pretty serious since they’d learned what their dad had done. But if he’d noticed too much in Bo’s expression it would have happened. They were brothers after all.
Abby could have come here for more than just husband hunting. Maybe she had different reasons for coming. But he knew there was nothing else in this small town that would make a single woman suddenly up and relocate.
Least not that he saw.
It certainly hadn’t ever happened before.
Get over it Monahan, give it up.
“Hope you slept good last night. It was a late one,” Jarrod continued while Bo was dug deep in thought.
“I did, thank you,” said Abby. “And thank you both for worrying about my car. I understand we should call Charlie.”
“Looks that way.”
She stared at the stake sticking through her grill. “I’d hoped I’d dreamed this part and my car was just stuck.”
“No, sorry. It’s real. But Charlie will get you fixed up pretty quickly.”
“Okay, that sounds good.” She bit her lip and looked troubled.
“I called my insurance company,” he said quickly, wanting, despite his disappointment, to relieve any concern she might have.
“Okay.”
Jarrod looked concerned at her quietness. “I need to head over to the fire department for a meeting but wanted to make sure you were okay this morning. There are no breaks in the fence or weak sections. The steer must have walked the cattle guard. I just wanted to assure you that this didn’t happen because of neglect.”
“Oh, I never thought that.” She sounded genuinely nice. “You’re on the fire department?”
Bo rubbed the back of his neck, his thoughts working overtime. “Jarrod is the fire chief of our volunteer fire department,” he told her, still trying to figure her out.
“That’s wonderful. I respect firemen so much.”
Jarrod held her serious gaze with his own. “Thank you, our volunteers are a great group of men. Bo’s one of them—we do what we can.” He tipped his hat. “If you need anything, let us know. We’re sorry about the inconvenience. Bo’s gonna make sure you have transportation in the meantime.”
“Oh,” emerged in almost a gasp and her gaze flew to his.
Dad-gum it, but she looked about as honest as they came. “That’s right.”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” she said a second time after Jarrod had left. He’d assured her it wasn’t. Now Bo did it again.
“It’s not any trouble and it’s our responsibility.”
Her expression only grew more worried. “Did he interrupt his plans for the morning just to come here and tell me that? I hope he’s not late for the meeting.”
“He changed the time so he could be here. I’ll get the meeting details from him.” Belatedly Bo realized he sounded like was looking for a little recognition himself.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m making you miss the meeting instead.”
He felt bad for having mentioned it. “No, don’t. It was only right for us both to make sure you were okay this morning. Like I said—it was our responsibility.”
“That’s considerate of you both, but I know that in cattle country, cows are going to get loose sometimes. And . . .” She stuffed her hands in her pockets only to pull them out quickly. “. . . and like he pointed out, it’s not due to intentional neglect. This was just something that happened.”
Bo studied her intently, hearing the unmistakable hard edge to her last words. What had caused that?
Abby noted the curiosity in Bo’s gaze and knew he’d caught her tone. “There’s no irresponsibility,” she added, trying to sound more positive, focusing on the good and not . . . the wreck that had killed Landon. That they were firemen had her thinking even more of it—of the jaws of life and the firemen who’d responded . . . there had been nothing positive about that wreck. Other than that those firemen had tried to save both of them.
“You’re right about that.” Bo turned around abruptly and started back toward the truck and she followed. “Jarrod oversees the ranch and as you can tell, he’s pretty detail-oriented. He personally rides or drives the fence lines of this ranch on a regular basis checking for weak spots. If there had been one, I can assure you it would have been dealt with immediately.”
Had she upset him? “And I can tell that about him. You must be pretty detail-oriented yourself with your custom stirrups. I understand they are very popular.”
He studied her as if trying to read her thoughts. Then he opened her door for her just as the rumble of the wrecker pulling in behind them gave him something else to focus on.
“There’s Charlie,” he said and strode away toward the older man as he got out of his truck.
“Looks like we got ourselves a humdinger of a problem,” the grizzled older man said around the toothpick dangling at the edge of his lips.
“We do, Charlie, but we knew you c
ould fix us up.” Bo held out his hand and they shook. He introduced Abby and then they all walked back over to the car to discuss what Charlie would do.
“Shouldn’t take more’n a couple of days. Got me a slow spot in the shop so I can get right on it—long as no unforeseen catastrophes happen round here.”
“Do you have catastrophes often?” Abby asked, startled by the declaration.
Charlie chuckled, swiped his hat off his head, and scratched a bushy head of grey hair.
“Oh,” Abby said, seeing the glint in his eyes. “You’re teasing.”
He chuckled again. “I do tend to do that. If I can get the insurance company to comply quickly, I can have this done probably in about two days since I ain’t seein’ any bodywork. You were very lucky on that end.”
“Thanks, Charlie,” Bo said, then told Abby, “Not much happens around here on a regular basis when it comes to collisions. Which is a good thing. But Charlie keeps all of the town’s vehicles and tractors running at his repair shop. So I’m suspecting that he’s about to bump your car into a priority spot in order to get it done. Am I right?” he asked Charlie.
“Well, that’s right, but it ain’t gonna be a big deal and you’re new in town. We like to treat a guest right.”
“But—you don’t need to do that—” Abby felt bad, even though she did need her car.
“Nope, none of that. This car will be done as quick as I can get it done. B’sides that, Pops is my old friend and has given me more’n my fair share of help through the years. Anyone who’s a friend of his or his boys is goin’ ta get first-rate service.”
“That is awful nice of you. I really appreciate it.” She glanced at Bo and thought she saw pride in his gaze. And he should have it. These were such nice words about him and his grandfather.
“Thanks, Charlie,” he said. “That’s real good of you to do that.”
It didn’t take but a few more minutes and Charlie had the car loaded up and headed off toward town.
“That was so nice of him,” Abby said as she got back in the truck.
“Yeah, he’s a great guy. A hard worker and as honest as they come.” Bo slid into the driver’s seat and glanced at the clock on the dash. “Hey, sorry, but I need to run up to the house and check on Pops before I take you back to town. Do you mind?”
Counting on a Cowboy Page 3