Rugged Hearts

by Amanda McIntyre

  Sadie padded into the dining room, wagging her tail, and nudged Wyatt’s leg as if to pull him from his reverie. Her bark indicated that she was ready to get on with the day, and why was he still sitting on his butt? He reached down and ruffled her fur. “You’re right, girl. We’ve got cabins to check and cattle to feed, and then a trip to the grocery store. We best get going.”

  ***

  The school bell rang and the collective scrape of fifteen wood chairs skidded noisily across the floor.

  “Don’t forget your milk-pod ornaments and worksheets in your cubbyholes,” Aimee called over the heads of the busy little bodies scurrying around her to get their cubby treasures.

  She knelt on one knee, zipping coats, tying scarves, and adjusting backpacks as the progression filed by her one by one on the way to where they waited to board the bus. “Good night, Ms. Worth” and “See ya tomorrow, Ms. Worth,” accompanied fierce hugs, somehow making the chaos of the day worth all the effort.

  After the last child left, Aimee straightened and took a deep breath. The room still hummed with their energy and she utilized it to pick up crayons and tuck papers back into the desks, getting the room ready for the nightly janitor. Recess had been a proverbial zoo, the snow seeming to infuse them, if possible, with greater enthusiasm about the upcoming break. Coming from Missouri, she wasn’t immune to harsh winters, but knowing the Weather Channel kept a close eye on End of the Line for its record snowfalls had her a little excited to experience the first real blast of winter in the Montana mountains.

  “You’ll be at class tonight?” Sally Andersen peeked around her door with a friendly smile. She’d met Sally, the school’s music teacher, the day she’d arrived. They’d become quick friends, both single, close in age, and finding they shared similar teaching styles.

  Aimee slapped her hand to her forehead. “I’m so glad you reminded me. I need to run by the store and the gas station before I head home.” Aimee glanced at her watch. “It starts at seven, right?” She glanced up to see her friend leaning against her door.

  “Seven thirty.” Sally corrected her with a point of her finger.

  “Got it.” Aimee nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  “The class is completely full. Can you believe it? Who knew so many people would be interested in something so romantic as creative writing? Sort of makes you wonder what’s going on in all those remote homes in the dead of winter, doesn’t it?” She wiggled her brows.

  “Personally, I try not to think about it too much. It’s depressing.”

  “There’s always Stanley,” Sally mouthed as she pointed to the classroom next to Aimee’s. Stanley was the sole bachelor at the school. It was rumored the mail-order bride he’d planned to marry, had, after her first visit to End of the Line, decided “remote” wasn’t in her vocabulary. Besides, Aimee’s perspective on being single had recently gotten a boost, however slight, after meeting the lone cowboy who lived out in God’s country with no one but his dog to talk to. However, for the chance to get up close and personal with those eyes again, she was willing to forgive his lack in social skills.

  “I’ll be there. What do you think of using the screen name A & W?”

  “Aimee Worth. Clever.” Sally grinned as she gave a jaunty finger wave. “See you tonight.”

  Aimee gathered some assignments to check, sandwiched them in a folder, and stuffed them in her book bag, the same one she’d used in college. She found it functional and comfortable, better than carrying a purse. With a final look around the room, she slung it over her shoulder, flipped off the light switch, and headed out to her waiting car.

  “Good evening, Ms. Worth,” Mr. Bartlett called to her as he retired the flag he tended to each morning and each evening. She waved in response, validated in her decision to follow through with applying at the small school where her sister had wanted to teach. Aimee climbed into her car, grateful, as she waited for it to warm up, that her wiper blades easily removed the remnant of snow on her windshield. She scanned the horizon, noting the brilliant orange-and-purple-ribboned sunset beginning to settle over the mountains. Sarah would have loved it immediately. It had taken Aimee a little longer.

  The first week after she’d arrived, Sally had taken her to every “hot and happening” locale in End of the Line, according to the music teacher. All except for Dusty’s. The downtown, laid out in an old-fashioned town square, had at its focal point a courthouse built in the late eighteen hundreds. A rustic picture of Victorian architecture complete with gables and stained glass, it also housed the town’s oldest working clock tower. When the county seat was moved, the building became the town library and the city chamber office. Park benches that had once drawn walkers and shoppers to the downtown were now in need of paint. Fundraising efforts had only recently begun for a project to restore the garden areas to their former elegance. Many of the storefronts on the square were empty, but a few remained: Betty’s Sunrise Café, Smith’s Drug, RadioShack, Tyler Cabinetry and Plumbing, and the town’s one and only movie theater, built in 1945. Businesses were open daily, except Sundays, when everyone would gather at the Trinity Lutheran one block over from Betty’s Café.

  A market, funeral home, fire station, small post office, and bowling alley rounded out the business roster. Doc Johnson had the only clinic in town, and anything of a serious nature was taken by ambulance, and sometimes snowmobile, to Billings.

  Aimee pulled into the Git and Go grocery. She waved at one of her students and her mother, who were leaving. Though they’d only measured less than three inches of snowfall, the wind had piled the snow so it had to be pushed in large drifts to clear the lot. She maneuvered her car between two others, grabbed her purse and recyclable grocery bag, and headed inside. A blast of warm air blew tufts of her bangs around her stocking hat as she entered the store. Denise, one of the clerks, raised a hand as Aimee grabbed a plastic, handheld basket. There wasn’t much she needed for supper and the thought of starting the new class had her anxious to get home.

  She picked up some honey tea, her favorite shortbread cookies, a pound of hamburger, a loaf of bread, a bag of apples, and a pint of milk. Distracted by a long strand of cellophane wrapped miniature candy canes, Aimee placed her basket on the end of the register. She picked up several packages and counted to be sure there would be enough for all of her students. She glanced at the tabloid headlines as she waited, paying no heed to those around her until the man before her moved forward and she too nudged her basket ahead. Before she could prevent what happened next, her basket tapped one of the apples on the counter in front of her and she watched in horror as it dropped to the floor with a dull thud.

  Apologetic, Aimee looked up horrified to speak to the person in front of her. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t see—” Her voice stopped, and her mind went blank. It was him, her dark-eyed, scrumptious cowboy. The same guy with the amazing house straight out of Cowboy and Indians magazine. He did sort of look like a Wyatt as she stared at him. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem overjoyed to see her again. Maybe he’d already forgotten their meeting.

  She knelt down to pick up the apple and found it had rolled against his boot. Are those size thirteens? She shook her head, hurriedly fished out one of her apples, and traded him for the one now bruised. “Sorry. Here, W—why don’t you take me…mine…this one?” Her eyes widened with the realization she’d nearly called him by name. She didn’t want him to think she’d been asking around about him. Then again, wouldn’t this be a perfect time to exchange proper introductions?

  He tipped his head as he pulled out a few bills from his wallet and the Stetson he wore made it impossible to see his expression. Mesmerized by the breadth of his shoulders in that coat, she opened her mouth to ask if he remembered her, but in the next instant he was exiting the store, his coat fanning out around his legs. It dawned on her he hadn’t spoken a word to her. Not even so much as a how do you do!

  “Good luck, darlin’, if you think can melt that heart.” Denise eyed Aimee wi
th an arched brow.

  “What a strange guy. What’s his story?” Her attention was focused on watching him pause to drop off his bag in the truck, before heading to the meat market next door. His beautiful golden retriever sat dutifully in the cab, content to watch the hustle and bustle around her. Maybe it’d been longer than she thought since she’d met a man who turned her insides to Jell-O.

  “Wyatt’s kind of a loner. Has been since Jed, his dad, died. Keeps to himself, pretty much. Denise stuffed the last of Aimee’s groceries in her lime-green Save The Earth bag and handed it to her. “I say you count yourself lucky he acknowledged you at all.” She cackled. “In fact, darlin’, that might be the closest thing to flirting I’ve ever seen that man do.”

  Aimee gave the woman a dubious glance and waved as she left, but deep inside the memory of his stoic gaze, left her fanning herself with her mitten.

  Chapter Four

  Wyatt’s gaze darted to the young woman standing next to his truck. She raised her arm as he approached. “Hi, remember me? I stopped by your place the other night for directions?”

  Like he could forget that hair or the shape of those legs encased in faded denim. Oh yeah, he remembered her, fantasized about her, imagined exploring her from the tip of her nose to the tips of her toes, which he just bet were painted pink to match her coat. He nodded and dropped down the tailgate of his truck, placing the bundles of meat in his arms into a cooler. “Are you lost again?” he asked, not wanting her to see the heat in his eyes from his previous thoughts.

  He felt her presence at his side and glanced over, meeting her curious expression. “That’s a joke. Thanks for the apple. You didn’t have to do that.”

  She shrugged. “Denise says I’m lucky you acknowledge me at all. Quite the reputation with the ladies you must have around here, Slick.”

  “My name isn’t Slick and Denise should mind her business.” He shifted the groceries in his crates so they wouldn’t tip over on the way back home. Where he needed to head soon before….

  “I was wondering if you’d care to join me for a cup of coffee?”

  Before that happened. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Do I scare you, cowboy?”

  He let out a quiet laugh. “You certainly have quite the mouth on you.”

  “That’s not a joke, is it?” she asked.

  He slammed the gate of the truck bed. “Look, it’s been a pleasure. Thanks for the apple thing.” He started to leave.

  “Oh my gawd. I just figured it out. You don’t like women. Of course, it all makes sense now.”

  Wyatt walked to the back of the truck where she stood and stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

  She blinked at him, her eyes bright with wonder. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. You hardly come to town, you prefer keeping to yourself. It must be difficult.”

  He clamped his hand on the tailgate and pushed his face to hers. Of all the damn foolishness. “What must be difficult?” Wyatt took a deep breath and waited patiently, his gaze locked to hers.

  “’Course it’s just as hard for single women. Don’t get me wrong. I do understand. My dad calls this place the land that time forgot. But for a guy with alternative preferences it must be—”

  His brows shot up. “What?” he spat out in utter surprise. Does she really think…?

  She leaned forward, studying him with those beautiful eyes. “It’s okay. I have no problem with it. You know, I think we could be really good friends, just the same.”

  “Friends?”

  She shrugged. “Sure, why not? I accept your choices.”

  “Oh well.” He chuckled with an odd sense of wonder at her gutsiness. “That’s mighty big of you.”

  Her mouth turned down. “Look I’m just trying to be nice. Everybody gets lonely now and again.”

  “I don’t.” At least if he did, he hadn’t thought about it in a long while. Which wasn’t the point. Good Lord, did people really think he was a Brokeback Mountain man?”

  She tipped her head and gave him a sweet look of pity.

  “Oh for gawd’s sake, this is ridiculous.” He wasn’t sure exactly what it was he intended to prove by his knee-jerk reaction, but the next thing he knew, he’d grabbed her fluffy, pink coat by the shoulders and captured her mouth in a kiss. His immediate thought was to end all question about his lifestyle choices, the second, a realization that while it was a horrid idea, parts much lower found it quite exhilarating.

  Wyatt dropped his hands to his sides, surprised as she seemed to be at the fire smoldering between them. She grabbed the truck and stared at him in shock. He backed up and then rounded the end of the vehicle to place a barrier between them. He swallowed hard and rubbed his hand over his still-tingling lips. “You know, lady, you have plenty of nerve implying that you know one blessed thing about me and second….” His gaze fell to the sweet mouth he’d just kissed. “For the record, I happen to like women just fine.” He adjusted the brim of his hat. “And I’ve had no complaints, by the way.”

  She blinked a couple of times and cleared her throat. “My apologies. I wasn’t questioning your…just who you use it with.” Her statement faded into a soft, shaky whisper.

  His brow rose. It was insane of him to be pleased at her chagrined look, worse that it seemed he’d rendered her speechless. “Believe me, it takes a great deal more to offend me than a stranger questioning my sexual preferences.”

  She swung her gaze to his. It felt like a sucker punch to his solar plexus. “Just the same, we’re not exactly total strangers, are we?” She tossed him a smile. “Did you get the stains out of your shirt?”

  Wyatt studied her a moment before answering. She was new in town, new in comparison to three-quarters of the population, at any rate. Young, single, pretty—hell, she was a knockout and didn’t his recent fantasies confirm that? Maybe her aggressive city-girl attitude was creating issues in the dating department. “Maybe it’s you that’s having problems finding a social life around here.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “It just so happens my job keeps me pretty darn busy. I don’t have much time to socialize.”

  Something about the way she faltered pleased him. “I guess we have more in common then.”

  “So you don’t date much either?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “No, to be honest, but maybe I haven’t found anyone that interesting…yet.”

  He saw the wheels turning as she processed his remark.

  She blew out a soft breath. “Okay, so, about coffee?” she asked, brushing the hair from her eyes.

  He glanced around, pretending to weigh his options, but the truth was that the minimal taste he’d had of her whetted his appetite for more. She was going to have to understand the parameters, because the last thing he wanted—needed—was a relationship. She apparently grew impatient for an answer.

  “Good heavens, it’s coffee, not a pre-nup.” She turned on her heel and tossed her hand in the air. “I was just trying to be neighborly.”

  God help him, his eyes zeroed in on her heart-shaped butt in those denim jeans. Neighborly was tempting. Neighborly was a start. Sensing things were going to get messy, and against his better judgment, he called out to her. “I’ll meet you over at Betty’s.”

  She spun around to face him, wearing that ridiculous cotton-candy-colored excuse for a coat. Her face lit up like a neon sign, and he briefly debated why it should make a part of him happy—granted a part of him long overdue in the socialization department. Wyatt shook his head as he climbed into the truck. Sadie greeted him, wagging her tail. “Stop me now, Sadie. That woman is trouble and I’m heading right toward it.” The trusted canine looked up at him and he swore she smiled back.

  There was a bigger crowd in the café than Wyatt expected for four thirty on a Tuesday afternoon. Every eye in the place had been on them since they’d sat down. To make matters worse, she’d chosen the booth, smack-dab in the front window.

  Wyatt gave B
etty a nod and tried to ignore the side look of approval she gave to…hell, he didn’t even know her name yet. “You know, you seem to know more about me, than I do you.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I guess I haven’t really properly introduced myself.” She glanced at Betty before she stuck out her hand to him. “Aimee Worth, from Kansas City, Missouri, originally.”

  Betty stood there, coffeepot in hand, a gleeful observer to the awkward introductions.

  “Betty, a little more coffee over here,” a patron called.

  “Just a minute, Charlie. Be right with you.” She looked at Wyatt with an expectant gaze, and waited for him to respond in kind. Betty was a stickler for manners. Had been for as long as he could remember.

  Holding back a sigh, he reached out and clasped her hand, purposely catching Betty’s eye. “Wyatt Kinnison.” The flesh against his was soft. Warm. Small. He might have lingered a second longer had Betty not been watching them like a mother hawk.

  “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Betty whispered, leaning down to turn his coffee cup over. She offered him a quick wink and a smile. Wyatt released his hold.

  After filling both ironstone mugs, Betty left them to wait on other customers.

  “So did you grow up here?” Aimee asked, curling her fingers around the cup.

  He started to answer.

  “You two kids want anything to eat?” Betty was back. Her gaze darted from one to the other. “We’ve got a tasty hot beef sandwich Jerr’s cooked up for the special tonight.”

  Wyatt glanced at Aimee. “I can’t stay, sorry. I’ve got…an appointment.” It wasn’t a falsehood. He did have a class, though not for another three hours or better.

  “Yeah, me, too,” she quickly interjected. “Just coffee. Thanks, Betty.”

  “Sure thing, darlin’.”

  As she turned away, Wyatt caught her raised eyebrow at Aimee. Small towns. Jed used to say they were both a blessing and a curse. He had that right.