“Well, I, I have work in the morning. I could have dropped you off and drove your truck home, but then you’d be stranded out there until I could get back out and return the truck. This way, you can sleep it off here and head out at first light.” Her smile was as big and bold as you please.
In his alcohol soaked brain, it made sense. Maybe.
She pulled the keys from the ignition. “You need help out of the truck?”
“Um, nope. I think I got it.” He slid out the passenger side and almost instantly regretted the movement. Lights danced around his head and bells rang in his ears, but he’d be damned if he needed any other assistance.
He only tripped once going up the steps. In the living room he plopped down on the sofa, afraid his legs might not hold out too much longer. “I’m gonna feel this in the morning.”
“Naw.” Ruby sat next to him and settled her hand on his thigh.
Pangs stirred behind his fly—he was a man, not a eunuch after all—but nothing compared to the tsunami of desire that swept through him every time he even thought of Gillian.
“I know something that will make you feel better.” She leaned in and settled her mouth on his.
Nothing. Nada. Zilch. He couldn’t even muster the ardor to kiss her back. Too much beer? “I’m drunker than a skunk.” He laughed against her lips. “Can’t move.”
“You don’t have to. Let me.” Her hand slid higher and her kisses moved to his ear, then neck. Quint tilted his head, rested it on the back of the sofa. He let his eyes slide shut. She tugged on the top button of his shirt.
His arms were too heavy to swat her away. He did want to swat her away, right?
The slow rubbing on his thigh coupled with the feather light kisses lulled him into a calm, relaxed state. Sleep-inducing warmth spread through him. He fought to stay awake, stay cognizant of Ruby.
Or was it Gillian?
He’d been with both women throughout the day, but they merged together in his mind. Two women, one who looked cowed eyed at him, the other who couldn’t stand him half the time. One had held him by the heart and the other by a thread of friendship. But which was which? He couldn’t remember anymore.
Ruby was his bud, his pal. Gillian, though, he wanted her with a fierceness that ached in the pit of his stomach—and every other area that made him male. He’d do just about anything to steal another kiss or two from her. To feel her warm skin beneath him.
He moaned and let his head role to the side. “Mmm, Gillian…”
Chapter Ten
Quint’s tongue had a sweater. A woodpecker had taken up residence in his skull. It took three tries to pry his gritty eyes open—a move he immediately regretted. Bright sun streamed in through the huge bay window.
He frowned. He didn’t have a bay window.
Scratching his hand through his hair—hell, even his hair hurt—he glanced around and surveyed the area. Ruby’s house. How had he gotten there?
He sat up and a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. His name stood out on it written in Ruby’s big, bold handwriting.
Had to leave for work. Your keys are next to the coffee pot.
No mention of how or why he was sacked out on her sofa. He scrubbed his hand over his face. The last thing he remembered was Gillian storming off at the Cates’ party. Everything after that was hazy at best.
His unbuttoned shirt fell open when he stood looking for his boots, which sat at the end of the sofa. With his feet shoved into the boots, he checked the clock on the mantle. Half past ten.
“Holy hell.” He should have been at work three hours earlier. Ryder and Heidi half an hour after that. Nausea rolled in his stomach and burned the back of his throat. He smacked his lips together and tried to alleviate the dry mouth but it did little good. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a killer hangover. College maybe. Even then he hadn’t drunk so much he couldn’t recall a single detail.
Massaging his temple shooed away the woodpecker, but nothing was forthcoming.
The fading aroma of fresh brewed coffee lessened the gurgling in his stomach. He wandered into the kitchen and found his keys next to a half-empty pot. A note up against a mug read: help yourself.
He washed down a couple of aspirin with a lukewarm cup of coffee, Mr. Coffee long since off duty for the day. He snapped up the phone on the counter and phoned Jacob.
“Hey. Sorry,” he said when his friend and employer answered the phone.
“For?”
He frowned. “Being late.”
“Ruby called. Told me it’d probably be noon before you made it in.”
“She did? Did she say why?”
Jacob chuckled. “No. But when a woman calls in for a man, you tend not to ask too many personal questions.”
Quint groaned and closed his eyes. “And the kids?”
“I had Ryder and Heidi ride out and check fences before they did the feeding. They got done and left about twenty minutes ago. Didn’t see any point in keeping them around.”
“Thanks.” He tucked the phone in the crook between his shoulder and chin, then rinsed out his mug and set it in the draining pan next to the sink. “I have to make a couple of quick stops and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He hung up with Jacob and scooped up his keys.
It took a little snooping from one window to the next to figure out where his truck was. It sat out right smack-dab in front of Ruby’s house, at the curb. He sucked up his pride and headed out the front door into the bright, morning sunlight and wild speculations that would circulate if folks saw him.
Doing the walk of shame at ten-thirty in the morning on the most populated street in town was just about last on his list. Next only to taking his dad up on a job offer and getting all his teeth removed with a hammer. Halfway to a clean getaway, two of Ruby’s neighbors looked up from their yards where they stood gabbing over the hedges with one another. Huge smiles split their faces—and he’d just given them fodder for the next day or two.
“Morning, ladies.” He raised his hand and waved as he slid into his truck.
A few blocks down, he pulled into the lot at the Paintbrush Motel—time to face up to whatever it was he’d done the night before. His hands shook. He hadn’t been nervous around Ruby since… never. Since he’d met her, they’d been easy friends and never had a cross word. Sure they’d rib each other from time to time, but it was all good-natured.
Ruby sat alone behind the register counter. Engrossed in a crossword, she glanced up at him when the bell over the door jangled.
An uncharacteristic pink tinted her cheeks. “Morning.” She turned her gaze back to the puzzle and penciled something in before she set her book aside. “You look like shit.”
“I feel like shit.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I, uh…” He lowered his eyes, didn’t have the balls to look at her not knowing what, if anything, had happened.
“You passed out cold the second your ass hit the sofa.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. “If that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I didn’t, I wasn’t. God, I was afraid of what I might have done to you.”
Her eyebrow slashed up. “That repulsive to you, huh?”
Quint pulled his hands from his pockets and gripped the edge of the registration counter. “No. I’m glad to know I didn’t hurt you or take advantage.”
“Darlin’, you were sucking up beer like it was soda. By the time we left, you could hardly stand. I don’t think there would have been much trouble of you taking advantage of a hooker.”
Something in the sharp edges of her tone skittered up his spine. Again, he fought to recall anything from the evening before. Nothing but a black hole.
Ruby pushed back her chair and stood. “I’d steer clear of the bar for a while though, you knocked over an entire stack of glasses on your way out. Was there anything else? I have some work to do.” She grabbed her ring of room keys.
“No.” He turned to go. “Thanks for b
eing there.”
Ruby just stared at him for a long moment. “That’s what friends are for.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Zan cornered Quint in the diner parking lot. He’d ordered a couple of lunches to-go, hoping food would lessen his boss’s ire once he made it out to the ranch.
He settled the bag on his front seat and turned to his aunt. “I beg your pardon?”
Dressed in brightly colored scrubs, she thrust her still-gloved hands on her hips.
“Is that sanitary?” He pointed to the purple latex then leaned back against the truck. “How did you know where to find me? Did Missy call you after she took my order?”
She waved away his questions. “I got no less than three calls telling me you were sneaking out of Ruby’s house first thing this morning.”
“It was after ten. Hardly first thing. And I was so not sneaking.”
She heaved out a sigh. “And Kyle called me to ask how you were holding up after you and the mustang had such a late night.”
“Last time I checked, I was a grown man.”
“Who lives in a small town where people feed on any kind of gossip.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “It’s hardly worth repeating.”
“No? One of the most eligible bachelors takes one woman to a party—who he has been shamelessly flirty with since she got to town, not to mention moved her into his home.”
He rubbed the spot on his chest that started to ache with his aunt’s tirade. “Vacant home.”
“And he leaves the party with another woman and is then seen coming out of her house the next morning.” She shook her head.
Anger heated his gut. What he did and with whom was no one’s business. “You’re sounding remarkably like your older brother.”
“And you’re acting like a damn college boy.” She spun on her clompy nursing shoes and left him standing alone in the diner parking lot. Over her shoulder, she called back to him, “You will have to grow up one of the days, Quinton Walters.”
“Come with us.” Missy leaned her elbows on the counter at the diner. “The whole town turns out for the picnic, then later we have a spectacular fireworks show.” A huge smile crossed her face. “Cade will be here.”
“I don’t know…” Gillian gnawed on her lower lip. She didn’t do well with crowds. Even more, she was afraid of running into Quint. She hadn’t seen him since the night of the Cates’ party—and that hadn’t ended well for them. But oh, how she’d heard an earful from folks seeing him slink out of Ruby’s house the next morning.
Gillian might not be adept at matters of dating and romance, but fickle still hurt. Not that she hadn’t yelled at him and stormed off. It didn’t lessen the ache when she thought of Quint with Ruby. Not that she had any reason for the pangs of jealousy or the sudden urge to rip the woman’s hair out handful by handful.
So she’d kissed Quint a couple of times. A little necking does not a relationship make. Whether or not she was looking for a relationship—which she wasn’t.
Then there were the gossips, the ladies who were in the diner when she’d come in for breakfast before work all week. They’d all been trying to decide how long anything had been going on between him and Ruby. No one could recall a single instance that would have given them a clue—and as they loved to gossip, it had to have been fodder for a while. Still, if he was coming out of Ruby’s house, undoubtedly the pair had progressed past a “little necking”.
The women all clammed up pretty quick when they saw her, but she’d managed to come in once or twice and overhear them, and what she missed, Missy was sure to fill in. She’d been part of the speculation as well, Missy had implied, but not outright said what all they’d supposed.
Gillian wanted to tell them how far off they were—the man hadn’t even bothered to call her once since the night of the party. It worked both ways. When the latch on the back door stuck, she’d wanted to call him to come out and fix it. Instead, she’d gone after it with a screwdriver until it was broken for sure. Then she’d called Manny. He’d replaced it in a matter of minutes. Questions had hung in his eyes as to why she hadn’t called the homeowner, but he was good at not prying.
After that, she’d set aside part of her check to give Quint as rent. Then, if or when, she needed to have him out, it would be as tenant and landlord. Nothing more, nothing less. There’d be no reason for any awkwardness.
“Pretty please, Mom.” Heidi bounced up and down next to Gillian, tearing her from self-pity-dom. “We should go. Can we, please?” She clasped her hands together in front of her and poked out her bottom lip.
“Are you six or sixteen?” Gillian glanced over her shoulder and stared out the diner window at all the red, white and blue bunting lining Main Street. When was the last time she and her daughter had done anything celebratory? She turned back to Missy. “Do we need to bring anything?”
Chapter Eleven
The borrowed quilt and pan of brownies she’d made grew heavier with each step. She considered turning back and holing up in the small house until all the town hoopla was finished. One look at the huge smile on her daughter’s face, though, kept her trudging down Main Street to the field back behind the community center.
“There’s Ryder.” Heidi tucked her hair behind her ear. She’d worn it down, even curled it a little. “Can I go sit with him?”
“Sure, you go…” Heidi was gone before Gillian could even finish speaking. “…ahead.”
“Teenagers,” Quint spoke from behind her. “Need an extra hand? Or two?” He snagged the pan from her hand and lifted up the tin foil. “Mmm. Brownies. My favorite.”
“Everything’s your favorite,” she mumbled under her breath. “Why limit yourself? To anything.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.” Gillian followed him to the dessert table. Her insides did somersaults. Now she really regretted coming to the picnic.
“These smell so good.”
She pasted on a polite smile. “You’re a guy. If it’s even remotely edible you think it’s good.”
“That’s true. Quint will eat just about anything.” Ruby joined the pair at the table. “Doesn’t have a discerning bone in his body when it comes to food. And sometimes other things.” The woman’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as she looked Gillian up and down.
If Quint hadn’t gone home with Ruby after the party, Gillian might find it amusing. Was Ruby just protecting her territory? For whatever reason, the woman still saw her as a rival.
Quint cleared his throat. “Would you like to join me and Ruby? We have a couple of seats saved over there.” He motioned to the other side of the field. Ruby crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow with a “like hell” expression.
Gillian considered saying yes, to make Ruby squirm, but as fun as that would be, Missy promised to save a seat for her. “Thanks, that would be nice.” She eyed Ruby whose cheeks reddened. “But, no.” She turned and left without so much as a backward glance.
A smile spread across her mouth, and for the first time, the outing wasn’t so horrible.
She made her way through the small crowd, looking for Missy. All she needed to do was look for the largest cluster of people. Cade Holstrom had come to Paintbrush for the Fourth of July celebration. Despite being a break-out star in Hollywood with a couple of “singing cowboy” movies, out behind the community center in Paintbrush, Wyoming, he was a neighbor come home. And everyone wanted to squeeze in and say hello.
Gillian had heard some of the gossip surrounding him. His older brother Dale was in prison for attempted murder—of Quint’s aunt of all people. When she’d heard the story it was the first and only tarnish anyone had ever put on Paintbrush. But no one held it against Cade. They all spoke of him like he was some dignitary. Gillian had spied his mother once at the grocers. If the cashier hadn’t pointed her out, she’d never have known that woman was once the queen of the town. She was dressed in nothing more than rags.
> Apparently, she and her husband had divorced after their son went to prison and the husband took off with the family fortune. Missy told her that Cade sent money, but it didn’t look like the woman ever tapped into the bank account. Plus, she was embarrassed to show her face in town—even though folks didn’t seem to hold any ill will toward her. But after what her middle child did… It must be hard with the yin and yang of offspring. Rumor had it their eldest son, Bart, was off in Vegas or somewhere living it up, spending what was left of his trust fund.
At least with Cade’s return some of the focus on the new girl shifted to talk of why he’d come to town and if he and Missy would rekindle an old romance. Gillian should thank him for taking the heat off her. She snorted. At the Fourth of July picnic, she didn’t think it prudent to bring it up. Especially since she’d yet to lay eyes on the man—in person.
“Gillian, come here.”
As if she’d conjured up the invite to meet him, Missy called her into the middle of the group. The woman’s eyes lit up and a flush colored her cheeks. If the look on her face was any indication, Missy was all for rekindling whatever spark might exist between the pair. She pushed past a couple of people and grabbed Gillian’s hand. “Cade, this is Gillian.”
The young Hollywood star removed his cowboy hat and nodded. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” His blond hair was cut shorter than it had been in his last picture. It didn’t detract from the heart-stopping beauty, though. He was such a handsome man it almost hurt to look at him. But the genuine smile that lit up his cerulean blue eyes made her comfortable, not the least bit uneasy, since he was a celebrity.
“How long will you get to stay in town for?” Gillian shifted the quilt on her arm.
“Here, let me get that for you.” He shoved his hat back on his head and took the quilt from her then settled it on the back of a chair. “I’ll be here a week or two. My agent’s working on a new contract, so right now I’m in between projects.” He crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the table. “How’s your arm? Missy mentioned you’d gotten hurt during the last storm.”
Wrong Turn, Right Cowboy: Paintbrush, Book 2 Page 13