Wrong Turn, Right Cowboy: Paintbrush, Book 2

by Denise Belinda McDonald

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “It feels that way.” Tear pricked her eyes.

  “Miss Harwood, Gillian, the only person to blame is the man who pulled the trigger. You can’t blame yourself.”

  But I do. She’d been strong when she was with Quint but it was all she could do to hold it together. Sure, she’d packed up her daughter and was hightailing it out of town, but not because she wanted to leave. As she told Jeffery Walters, the risk to Quint, to anyone in Paintbrush, was too much to deal with. She’d never expected to fall in love with Quint, or the rest of the town for that matter.

  “I may not have been around my son much lately, but I know for a fact that he gladly took that bullet if it meant keeping you or your daughter safe. He will lay down his life for those he loves.” The man bent his head. He looked so much like Quint. The two were more alike than either was willing to admit. “How’s your daughter?”

  Gillian smiled. “She fine. The hospital was a little much for her, so she went back to Paintbrush with friends of ours.” Friends. It was odd still that in such a short time she and Heidi made themselves at home. Found actual friends—family. If she hadn’t already knocked Rick over the head with her cast she’d have had to do it again for making her almost lose the world she and Heidi had found.

  Jeffery Walters nodded. “You should go on over and see Quint. He was asking about you again.”

  “I don’t want to intrude on your family time.”

  “Nonsense.” A shy smile tilted up the corner of his mouth—much like Quint’s. “Go on over.”

  Gillian glanced back over her shoulder as she left the waiting room. Quint’s father had such an odd expression. She couldn’t quite place it but best guess…he looked like he had a secret. She shook off her speculations as she walked down the hallway to Quint’s room.

  The lights were dimmed when she’d pushed through the door. She started to back out when he called to her.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t.” His bed was elevated slightly and he had his head tilted toward her. “Come in. Sit.” He patted the bed beside him.

  Gillian walked over but stayed standing. “How are you feeling?”

  He snorted. “Like I’ve been shot.”

  Breath backed in her lungs. “That’s not funny.”

  He reached out and took her hand. “Hey. I didn’t mean to upset you. I kind of feel like I have to joke about it to keep from letting it get to me.”

  “Letting what get to you?”

  “The fact that you or Heidi could have been killed. All because I let him get the drop on me.”

  Gillian squeezed his hand. “As a wise gentleman told me, it’s not your fault. The one who pulled the trigger is the only one to blame for this.”

  “Been talking to my dad have you?”

  “Guilty.”

  Quint frowned. “What else did he say?”

  “Not much. Just what I already knew. That you’re the bravest, most heroic person I’ve ever met.”

  “Do go on.” He batted his eyes lashes.

  “Some things never change.”

  “Some things do, though.”

  Cryptic talk from a man on morphine. Gillian chuckled.

  Quint sobered. “Will you tell me what happened? With Rick. The sheriff came by to see me, but didn’t tell me what all had gone on.”

  “Do you really want to know? He’s in jail and will be locked away for a very long time. No need to rehash it all.”

  “I’d like to know. I think the scenarios playing through my head are worse that what may or may not have happened.”

  “I doubt it,” Gillian mumbled. She glanced around the room and snagged the chair and dragged it over to the bed. When she sat, she laced her fingers through his again. “I came back to Paintbrush to get Heidi’s bear.” She scoffed. “Oddly enough the same thing that brought Rick to town.”

  Quint frowned but didn’t comment.

  “Back when Becca was dating Rick, she had videotaped them…well, let’s just say during an intimate moment smack dab in the middle of his pool table.” Watching the tape only to discover Becca and Rick doing it was an odd mixture of missing her sister and disgust to see the man who killed her all over her. “When they got done she fiddled with the camera and left the room. I don’t know if she left it on on purpose or not—there’s no way to know for sure.” Gillian shrugged. At this point did it really matter which scenario it was—dead was dead regardless of the intent.

  Quint squeezed her fingers and shifted in the bed. “What else was on the tape?”

  Gillian sniffed. “For twenty minutes or so there was nothing. Then Rick comes in with two men. I don’t know who either of them are. Rick accuses one of the men of stealing from him. Before the man can even comment, Rick pulls out a gun and bam. Pops him in the head.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Becca hid the tape in Heidi’s bear. It’s been in there for twelve years and neither of us ever even knew it. That’s why he was sniffing around Heidi when he got out of prison. The only thing I can figure was since the prosecutors never tried to go after him for that man’s death he assumed that the tape never surfaced.”

  “So he had to try and make sure that he got that tape back?”

  “Yep. But we ran. And he was convinced then I had it.”

  “What happened at the house?”

  Gillian took a deep breath. “The phone was ringing when I walked in. It was Cade calling to warn me Rick was in town. The phone went dead. Rick was already there.”

  A muscled in Quint’s jaw ticked.

  “Once I knew what he was after, I did everything I could to get him out of the house so someone could get to you. Of course, Cade notified the sheriff when the call was lost and he showed up at the same damn time.”

  “Reese is nothing if not punctual.”

  “He is that.” She held his gaze as she skimmed over the rest of the details. “When we got in Hank’s truck, I smacked him square in the face with my cast. Never thought you breaking my arm would come in handy but I’ll be damned if I could have gotten away from him without it.”

  “Glad I could help.” He looked away from her. “If that was the only way I could help.”

  “I thought we covered that already.” She wiggled his hand until he met her gaze again.

  “You’re right.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers. “Did you mean it when you said you were staying in Paintbrush?”

  “Yes. Heidi likes it here. I have a good job—assuming Manny does rebuild the shop. And…” She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth. “I have a boyfriend to look after.”

  “About that.” Quint squeezed her fingers quickly then let go of her hand while he looked away. “I don’t think you should go around calling me your boyfriend.”

  Her stomach plummeted. “Oh. Sorry. I, uh, just… Sorry I just…”

  Quint chuckled then groaned.

  “You think that’s funny?”

  “Not so much funny. I was actually thinking you should refer to me as your husband seeing how I plan on marrying you as soon as I get out of this bed.”

  “Your level of cockiness… What did you say?” And her stomach rolled the other way. Nerves tingled and goose pimples popped up on her arm. “Repeat please?”

  The smile at the corner of his mouth broadened. “I would much rather be on bended knee, but I don’t know that my legs would hold me up with all this morphine. Will you, Gillian Harwood, do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  “How do I know it’s not the morphine talking now?”

  “Do you remember when I came over to your house yesterday afternoon?”

  “Yes.” She nodded slowly.

  “I was going to ask you then.”

  “But I was running away.”

  “Your words, not mine.” He shifted and reached under the blanket. “I had this.” He held a small velvet box.

  “Ho
w did you…”

  “It was still in my pocket at the fire and later at the house.”

  She opened the small velvet box and gasped. A solitaire diamond sat above two rows of smaller diamonds. “Beautiful,” she said in just above a whisper. “I can’t believe… I never suspected…”

  “Having trouble finishing a sentence? That’s not like you.”

  “It’s been a rough couple of days.” She popped the ring from the foam, but she didn’t put it on. It was almost too pretty to be worn. It needed a case so people could come by and fill their gazes. It sparkled like crazy under the florescent hospital lights. “Can you marry someone who’s such a coward? Who would run away from someone she loved?”

  “Someone who would go to any length to protect her child? Absolutely.”

  “Are you ready to be the father of a teenager?”

  “I never half-ass do anything, so yep.”

  “What about more children?” Gillian smiled. Warmth ran all through her.

  “The more the merrier.”

  “I have one condition.” She handed him the ring and settled her hand in his. “You have to promise to love me forever.”

  “That is one promise I can guarantee you I will be happy to keep.”

  “Then, Mr. Walters, you have found yourself a bride.”

  About the Author

  Denise Belinda McDonald started her writing career at the tender age of eight. Her stories have changed over the years, but not her love for telling tales. An overactive imagination and a propensity to embellish have kept her books rich with lovable characters and interesting twists. A member of RWA, she belongs to several chapters.

  Denise lives in Texas with her husband, four boys and two dogs where she juggles her time between writing, carpool, Cub Scouts, sports galore and a multitude of crafts.

  If you would like to learn more about Denise, please visit her web site: www.denisebelindamcdonald.com or you can e-mail her at denise@denisebelindamcdonald.com.

  And for a Chica good time, visit her blog with authors Amie Stuart, Melissa Blue, and Tanya Holmes as well as fellow Samhain authors Vanessa Jaye and Raine Weaver at: www.southernfriedchicas.com.

  Look for these titles by Denise Belinda McDonald

  Now Available:

  Her Passion

  Deadly Mistakes

  The Inn Crowd

  Trading Faces

  The Cowboy Plan

  Paintbrush

  Second Chances

  Be careful what you ask for. It might come with spurs—and baggage.

  Second Chances

  © 2008 Denise Belinda McDonald

  The Paintbrush Series

  After catching her boyfriend with his pants around his knees while a walking, talking cliché takes “dictation”, Suzanne Walters quits her job, quits her man, quits Texas and moves to Wyoming to find the woman she used to be. Unfortunately, her first five minutes in Paintbrush finds her facing down the town bully in the local diner—and running smack into the one thing she’s not looking for: a wet dream in cowboy boots, Jacob Bowman.

  Jacob excels at two things—flying under the radar, and saving his pennies in hopes of running his own ranch someday. He can’t stop thinking about the fantasy in tight Wranglers who nearly mowed him down exiting the diner. The curvy, vivacious spitfire makes his mouth go dry. She’s got her eye on him, as well, but her determination to prove her independence is just as strong as the sexual pull between them.

  Life’s knocks have given them both strong hearts, and even stronger wills. As danger looms, that stubborn pride could cost their one chance to discover if there’s something more between them than great sex.

  Will they swallow their pride, or will they lose it all?

  Warning: Cowboys and horses and bullies OH MY! Sweet, sweet loving and a little rowdy behavior.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Second Chances:

  “So what brought you to Wyoming?” Marti Cates asked as she passed a bowl of steaming mashed potatoes to Zan.

  “Just a change of pace, I guess. My aunt made it sound so wonderful that when I was ready to move, this was the first place I thought of.”

  Mr. Cates shook his head. “I still can’t believe Bonnie moved to Sheridan. I never would have pegged her for a city girl.”

  Zan tried not to snort. Sheridan made her aunt a city girl? Had Zan just crossed into an alternate universe, not just over a few state lines?

  “Love will make you do strange things.” Marti looked at her husband with a gleam in her eye.

  “I guess,” Zan said, swirling the potatoes around on her plate. Her idea of love was unfortunately tainted by her three-year relationship with Charles Stratford. She honestly didn’t think true love existed—but if it did, it came at a price.

  Zan looked up to find all eyes on her.

  “Gene’s a great guy.” She really did like the man, and he obviously made her aunt happy. She just couldn’t buy into happily ever after.

  “So, I hear you stood up to Dale Holstrom.” Lisa practically bounced off her seat.

  Zan choked on her tea as the cool liquid turned instantly bitter at the mention of Holstrom. Covering her mouth, she coughed. Jacob jumped from his chair and started pounding on her back.

  “I’m…okay. Went down…the wrong pipe.” She tried to take in a deep breath, but Jacob continued to pound. “You can…stop hitting me…now. I’m fine.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  A tint of color splashed across his cheeks. A grown man blushing? She couldn’t get over how cute he looked. Whoa. She needed to keep her thoughts in check.

  She cleared her throat.

  “I wouldn’t say I stood up to him.” Everyone was looking at her again, waiting for her to explain further. “I just asked him to leave me alone and he didn’t, so I asked him again.”

  “You’re being far too modest,” Jacob spoke up. He had been fairly silent since they sat at the Cates’ table. One glance at him though, and his eyes drew her in, made her forget the other people at the table. “The man was fit to be tied when you left. Not many, especially a woman, have ever bested him before.”

  “Well, someone should. The man’s a jackass.” The room snapped back into focus at the sound of Lisa giggling. “Oops, sorry.” Zan fixed her gaze on her plate.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure she’s heard worse. And the boy is a jackass,” Willard Cates said with a smile when Zan looked at him. “Aside from Dale, how are you liking Paintbrush?”

  “Oh, I love it. Back in Fort Worth, you can go days without running into someone you know. Here, every face you see is someone you’ve talked to or seen recently. It’s great.”

  Lisa snorted. “I can’t wait to get out of here when I turn eighteen. The anonymity of a big city.”

  Zan couldn’t help but notice the sad look that passed between Willard and Marti. Must be hard to know your child wanted to leave. She thought of her own parents and made a mental note to call them later.

  After dinner, she offered to help with the dishes, but Imogene wouldn’t hear of it. The woman shooed Zan out of her kitchen. With nothing to do, and not ready to head home to her empty house, she wanted to take a peek in on Lisa’s pup.

  “Knock, knock.” Zan pushed open the teen’s door. “How’s the patient?”

  “Doing better.” Lisa patted the bed beside her. “Sit.”

  Zan settled at the other end of the polka-dot comforter. The room looked almost identical to Zan’s niece’s back in Fort Worth with all the band and movie posters littering the walls.

  “Jacob’s a hottie, huh.”

  Where in the world had that come from? Zan tried not to fall off the bed. “I guess.”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

  “I, uh…boy, you’re blunt.”

  “Ha. I just call it like I see it.” Lisa smiled and leaned back on a pile of plush pillows. “He’s single, you know.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Don’t you want—�
�

  “I just got to town. Dating is the absolute last thing on my mind right now.” Though she didn’t think she could go wrong with “hottie” Jacob. She’d noticed the way his muscles strained against his shirt as he’d reached across the table at dinner. How his denims molded to his wonderfully defined backside when he’d bent to pick up the fork Lisa had knocked off the table after dinner. Why that little…

  It didn’t matter. Hottie or not, she didn’t need the hassle, would not let herself fall into the same trap again. She hadn’t moved over a thousand miles away to get stuck with another man telling her how to live her life. It might have taken until her thirty-second birthday, but she had finally found herself and wasn’t willing to lose that gal again.

  Zan noticed Lisa watching her closely. She shook off her thoughts and picked up a CD off the nightstand. “I saw them in concert a couple of months ago.”

  Lisa’s smile widened. “Really. Ohmygawd. They are so hot. I have all their stuff.” She reached over the side of the bed and dragged out a huge box. “Have you ever heard this one…”

  Half an hour later, Zan managed to pry herself away from Lisa and headed back downstairs. She had to admit it’d been fun talking to someone about anything not Wyoming related—and it made her miss her family all over.

  “Oh, hey.” Zan found Jacob alone in the living room. For a long, awkward moment, they stood, silent, both staring away from the other.

  “I’m glad—” he started, as she said, “I should—”

  “Go on, ladies first.”

  “I was going to say, I should be going now. It’s getting late.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Jacob said, but she detected a hint of disappointment. “I’ll walk you out to your car,” he offered.

  “No, that’s okay. We’re out in the middle of nowhere. I’m not worried about getting mugged.”

  “True. But have you ever come across a hungry coyote?”

  Her eyes widened and she shivered. “Uh, no.”