Wrong Turn, Right Cowboy: Paintbrush, Book 2

by Denise Belinda McDonald

  “Are you okay? I mean other than the break?”

  That was why Gillian liked Mrs. Taylor. No yelling, no blaming, but instant concern for her. “A few bumps and bruises.” She went on to explain what had happened getting caught out in a storm—she left off the whole kissed-a-hot-cowboy part. And how it had stirred so many emotions and feelings she’d never expected. And then the fact that he’d taken off as soon as he’d dropped her off at the doctor’s office—and hadn’t bothered to check in since. Not that he owed a single thing to her. And if she kept saying it, it might not sting so horribly.

  “That’s scary.”

  Gillian blinked. How did she… She meant the storm itself, not the one raging inside her.

  She might have agreed it’d scared the bejesus out of her if she had given herself time to really think of it, but for her sake and that of her daughter, she didn’t dwell on the close call.

  “I understand you can’t hold the job for me.” Gillian was hoping Mrs. Taylor would say, “Don’t be silly, of course we will.” But when the woman didn’t Gillian continued, “I’m really sorry to put you in a bind.”

  “Not so much a bind really. I’m just disappointed you won’t be joining us. Tell you what…” There was a long pause. “When you’re back to one-hundred percent, call me and we’ll see where the resort’s at. Maybe if business does better than projected…”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” She hung up the phone at sat still for a long moment. Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she was determined not to cry in front of her daughter.

  “What did she say?” Heidi gnawed on her lower lip.

  “To call back when the cast comes off.”

  “That’s, good, I guess.” She looked down at her hands and asked, “What are we going to do right now?”

  Gillian snagged a pencil from her bag and tried unsuccessfully to wedge it inside her cast. Anything to distract her from the turn of their life. No job. Renting a motel room day by day. Money running out. She did have another bank account she could gain access to and get funds, but it was a “just in case” account. Her depleted wallet was a few dollars shy of just in case, but not there just yet. They would have to run again the moment she accessed the account. She just couldn’t risk the chance that it could and would pinpoint their location—to anyone monitoring it. She needed to formulate a plan of action. Again.

  They had a slew of other states they had never even been to, much less lived in, so the country was wide open to possibilities. Finding a job with a broken wrist would be a challenge. And then there was high school. Heidi still had two years left before she graduated.

  Maybe Gillian could hold off having to make a decision until the cast came off. She might be able to get her job or any job at the resort and everything could go back to the way they’d planned. She just had to wait it out.

  Gillian dropped the pencil back into her bag. “You know what? We can do just about anything. We have the summer to figure out where we want to land.”

  Heidi’s eyes brightened. “Really?”

  “Grab my bag, please, sweetie.” They were headed down to the diner for a light dinner, but one-handed Gillian was making no fast progress getting ready. She twisted the laces of her sneakers this way and that. A knock at the door stopped both in their getting ready.

  “I got it.” Heidi tied her hair back with a pink ribbon.

  Gillian grunted in disgusted. “Damn laces.” Three unsuccessful tries at her sneakers. “I give up.” She tossed the shoes aside and was slipping into a pair of flip-flops when Heidi called her to the door.

  A couple in their late-sixties stood side by side. “Hello.” The woman smiled and toyed with the strap of her purse.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re looking for Gillian.”

  “That’s me.” Her shoulders stiffened. The last time she’d had someone on her front porch looking for her, she’d packed up her daughter and headed for parts unknown. She leaned into the edge of the door with her shoulder. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

  “Where are my manners? I’m Bonnie Carmichael. And this is Gene Twofeathers.”

  “Nice to meet you both.” On top of the nerves, Gillian’s stomach growled and she hoped Bonnie would get to whatever point had brought her to the motel. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Zan told me where to find you.”

  Gillian relaxed scant degrees. “Bowman?”

  “Yes.” Her smile broadened. “She’s my niece.”

  “And that would make you Quint’s aunt as well.” When the woman nodded, Gillian held the door open wider. If she were going have a social call, she might as well sit. “Can I invite y’all in?”

  “Why, thank you.”

  Gene removed his cowboy hat when he followed Bonnie in and sat at the small table in the corner. Not once uttering a word.

  “Oh, my. What happened to you?” She pointed to the hot pink cast.

  Gillian fidgeted. “My own clumsiness.”

  “Well.” Bonnie glanced at Gene. “That changes things a bit, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  “Zan told me what you’d done for my nephew’s knee. And Hank Calhoun’s shoulder. I’d been hoping that maybe you could have a look at Gene’s back. It tightened up on our way back from Jackson Hole visiting his new grandbaby—it does that every now and again, but will usually work itself out. This time though it’s just not letting up.”

  The man sat stiff in his seat.

  “But seeing how you’re—” Bonnie again pointed to the cast, “—I guess doing what you do is next to impossible.” The older woman frowned. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” Bonnie and Gene stood.

  “Wait. Please.”

  The couple sat.

  “You’d wanted me to work on Gene’s back.”

  Bonnie nodded.

  Gillian glanced at the older man. Pain tightened his handsome features. She tugged at her lip. She’d taught a few classes back in Mobile. “What if I show you how to do it?”

  Gillian gave Bonnie Carmichael a crash course in therapeutic massage. She also recommended several books for the couple. She might not be able to help them directly but between the copious notes the woman took and the books, Bonnie’d be able to muddle through Gene’s stiff back, hopefully.

  They’d only been gone a minute when Heidi started tapping her foot. “Mom. C’mon.” She stood by the door with her bag. “I’m star-ving.”

  Gillian’s stomach growled again. Enough impetus to get her butt in gear. They opened the door to find it raining again. “Damn cast.” She closed the door back and glanced around the small room. “Grab the trash can next to the TV, hon.”

  Heidi handed her mom the little, black receptacle. Gillian set the two empty Coke bottles on the dresser and removed the bag.

  “You’re not serious.” Heidi frowned and scrunched up her nose.

  “You want to eat don’t you?”

  The teen crossed her arms over her chest and nodded.

  Gillian fashioned the bag up over her cast, but she was afraid it might leak. “Will you go grab the one from the bathroom trash too?” When her daughter brought the second bag, she repeated the odd glove-like covering then tucked into a light denim jacket to keep the bag secure. “Let’s eat.”

  The pair walked the few short blocks to the diner. Several heads turned and waved at them when they pushed through the door. Gillian’s growling tummy went from hungry to something akin to familiarity.

  “Hey. Y’all find a seat somewhere. I’ll be right with you.” Missy waved and hurried to one of the tables with a coffee carafe.

  Gillian ushered Heidi to their regular—being the second time they’d sat there—booth. She glanced around the room hoping to see Quint, a little shocked he hadn’t checked on her once. You kiss a girl, watch her go into a washed-out gully then break her wrist and hightail it for parts unknown.

  She coul
dn’t blame him.

  “Hey, hon.” Missy stepped up to the end of the booth. “You stopping in to get something to eat before you head on out?”

  “Actually, no.” Gillian tapped a teaspoon on the tabletop in a nervous staccato.

  Heidi snagged the spoon from her hand and whispered, “Cut it out, Mom.”

  “No?” Missy frowned and clicked the pen closed, but held her hand poised over the pad. “You just stopping in to say bye?”

  “Sorry, sorry.” Gillian chuckled. “We’re here for dinner. Not sure when we’re leaving, just yet, so no goodbyes. Just food.” Gillian and Heidi rattled off their orders.

  Missy turned to go but paused. “Crazy about Jacob and Quint, huh?”

  Gillian’s stomach flipped over. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  “That storm washed out part of Jacob’s fence. They’d’ve lost half the herd, if Quint and Jacob hadn’t gotten to it when they did.”

  “That’s terrible.” Gillian picked at the plastic bag over her hand.

  “What’s that?”

  “A cast?”

  “You broke your arm?” Missy pulled up a chair to the end of the booth. “I’d heard something happened up at Jacob’s place, but… You broke it?”

  “My wrist. Yes.” Gillian held the jean jacketed, plastic bag covered, hot-pink casted arm in question up.

  Missy frowned. “What about your job? How’ll you be able to give massages?” She motioned to the cast.

  “I won’t.” Gillian’s chest tightened. “And they can’t hold the job until my arm heals.”

  Missy leaned forward, set her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hand. “What are you going to do?”

  Gillian pasted on an over-bright smile—she’d been serious when she’d told her daughter they could go anywhere or do anything, but deep down it scared the hell out of her. She hadn’t been without direction since she was fourteen. “We may just make it up as we go along. Or at least until it’s time for school to start.”

  “Sounds exciting.”

  “I know, right.” Heidi mimicked Missy’s stance. “But we could also just stay right here.” She glanced back over her shoulder to where Ryder and his group of friends sat at the bar. “Paintbrush isn’t so bad.”

  “You’d want to stay here?” Gillian hadn’t expected that.

  “We could.” The teen shrugged and sat back in her seat. “It’s as good a place as any.”

  “What about work?” Missy persisted.

  Gillian tried to wedge her finger into the cast, despite the plastic rain protection, but she couldn’t quite reach the itch. “I’m not real sure.”

  “There you are.” Bonnie and Gene stepped up next to the table. “I tried your room and hoped you might be here.”

  Gillian’s eyebrows rose. “Did you need something else?”

  “We were talking on the way out and started wondering about…” She asked several specific questions about working on Gene’s back.

  While Gillian explained a few of the different aromas and pressure points to Bonnie and Gene, Missy had gone back to the kitchen with their orders. After a few minutes, she returned and set the plates in front of Gillian and Heidi. The teen dug right in, but Gillian finished up writing out a couple more suggestions for Bonnie and her beau.

  “That’s great. I am so sorry we interrupted your supper. ’Night.” The couple stood to go and Bonnie huffed. “There’s my no good great-nephew.”

  Quint came in all but drenched and sat at the counter. Gene slapped him on the shoulder and Bonnie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. They exchanged a few words. Once or twice he glanced over toward them, but he hadn’t so much as waved or smiled at her.

  Why had she thought he’d be the least bit attentive? Didn’t his running off show her she’d been a nuisance? Not a potential date.

  She shook off her thoughts. A date was the absolute last thing she needed while they were stuck in Paintbrush regardless of how long they stayed in Wyoming.

  When Missy hurried past, Gillian waved her over. “Can we get our check?”

  “Miss Bonnie got your meal. Gave me a pretty good tip too if I do say so.”

  “She shouldn’t have…”

  “Hon, you can go over there and tell her no thank you. But I can tell you now, you’ll hurt her feelings.”

  “O-okay.” Gillian wiped her mouth again with the napkin.

  “That’s so cool.” Heidi smiled. “Can I get dessert?”

  “It’s broken?” Quint’s gut dropped.

  “You didn’t stay at Dr. Hambert’s long enough to find out?” Bonnie glowered. “Quinton Walters.”

  He hadn’t put that look on his aunt’s face too many times as a child, but he still got the gnawing in the pit of his stomach from disappointing her. “No, ma’am. Jacob lost half the fence in the storm. I had to leave as soon as I saw she was settled in with the doctor.”

  Thanks for not leaving me. Her words still haunted him. What did she take him for? Why did he now feel that was exactly what he’d done?

  “I guess you can have a pass. But the least you should do is check up on her. Gene just pulled up out front.” She stared at him for one moment longer then turned to go.

  “Aunt Bonnie, how’d you know Gillian?”

  His aunt shrugged. “Small town, hon.”

  “Shoulda known.” Quint smiled and waved her off as she rushed out of the diner and into the waiting car.

  Missy set Quint’s food in front of him and his stomach rumbled. She held a tray with two huge banana splits. “Our little friends are gonna stay a while.” She motioned to Gillian and Heidi.

  Quint lowered his fork without so much as a single bite of food into his mouth. A smile spread. “You don’t say?”

  “Yep. Seems she’s no good to that spa with a broken wrist.”

  His smile faded as quickly as it came. “It’s really broken?”

  Missy lowered the tray a little and inclined her head toward him. “You didn’t know?”

  “Aunt Bonnie said, but I thought she was giving me a hard time for not staying with her at Dr. Hambert’s office.” Quint stood. “Tell you what.” He set his plate on the tray next to the desserts. “Let me take this for you.”

  Missy gave him the biggest smile he’d seen in a long time.

  One summer at a Dave and Busters back in Dallas flooded back to him as he hoisted the tray of food. The two Harwood girls were chatting about shoes or some girlie crap and paid him no attention as he set the ice cream in front of them. When he set his plate down they both looked up and gasped.

  “Quint. Hey.” Gillian licked her lips.

  He’d give anything to taste them again, but with her daughter right there, he needed to get his thoughts in check. “May I?” He stood right next to the bench where Gillian sat. When she finally scooted over to let him in, he slid in beside her and settled his plate in front of him.

  “Thanks for watching over my mom,” she said almost begrudgingly.

  He smiled over at the teen. “Not a problem.”

  “Next time though, could you try to bring her back in one piece?”

  Gillian snorted. Quint leaned back laughed. “Deal.”

  His stomach growled again.

  “Eat. Before your food gets cold.” Gillian tapped his plate with her spoon.

  Quint picked up his fork and did as she commanded. Not that he could have waited much longer—he was famished.

  It seemed like a good idea at the time, coming over to sit with the two of them. That was until Gillian dug into her banana split.

  “Oh, this is heavenly.” She licked a spot of chocolate syrup from the spoon. He hadn’t seen a woman enjoy anything as much in so very long.

  Her eyes closed as her tongue darted out to swipe at a small glob of strawberry from the corner of her mouth.

  Quint’s fork clanked with a resounding echo on the edge of his plate.

  Heidi didn’t even look up from her ice cream. Gillian blushed.

  �
�I’m…” His voice cracked and he had to clear his throat. “I’m so sorry about your arm. And your job.”

  “Mom, I’m gonna go talk to Ryder.” Heidi left the booth before her mother could breathe much less get a word in.

  “Not your fault.” She ducked her head. “I mean, it was, but…still. Not on purpose.”

  His stomach turned over. He’d never broken a bone in his own body, much less someone else’s before. If not for the damn gate being loose… He’d screwed up majorly this time. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Oh, you’ve done enough, thanks.” She smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “I feel horrible.”

  “To be honest, with that water rushing toward me, I’d take a broken wrist to the alternative any day.” She shook herself.

  That was an image Quint didn’t need implanted in his head. “Are you staying here? In Paintbrush?” He held his breath and waited. And waited.

  Finally Gillian set her spoon down. “At least for a few days. I don’t have a whole lot of options.” She glanced around the room and leaned toward him. “Can I tell you something?”

  Quint leaned over too, their shoulders touched. “Absolutely.”

  “I’m terrified.” Gillian’s eye glazed over with unshed tears. Her hand trembled on the tabletop. “I have never been without a direction or a plan since I was fourteen. Never had to worry about what came next. I…” She blinked several times, sat up straight and took a long drink of water. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laid that all out on you.”

  Quint settled his hand over hers. “I don’t mind. Everyone needs someone they can talk to.”

  “Still, I—”

  “Hey, guys.” Ruby bumped his leg sticking out from the booth. “I’ve been looking for you, Quint. I heard about all the ruckus up at the ranch today.”

  If Quint wasn’t mistaken, Ruby’s eyes narrowed at Gillian. As if it were her fault rain came and washed away creek beds and knocked down forty-year-old fence posts.

  “Nothing that hasn’t been taken care of.” Quint shoved his plate forward. “Did you need something?”