Rugged Hearts

by Amanda McIntyre

  Friday night, cars and trucks of every make and model filled the two gravel parking lots that surrounded Dusty’s. Cars were parked along the side street, bumper-to-bumper, stretching several blocks back to the town square. With Jerry’s help, Dusty had constructed a small stage in one corner of the bar, complete with a single spotlight. Gus over at RadioShack had donated a medium-sized flat-screen for people to read the song lyrics for the karaoke.

  Aimee stood next to Sally, astounded by the turnout. The large pickle jars Dusty had placed at the entrance and both ends of the bar were already stuffed with coins and bills. Another bucket near the stage was nearly full with donations from patrons who had tried their hand at karaoke. Her gaze caught sight of a tall cowboy with a hat like Wyatt’s and her heart leaped as she thought he’d changed his mind. But another closer look in the murky light revealed Dalton in his ball cap walking behind another man. “It’s just Rein,” she muttered.

  “I’m sorry, honey.” Sally stood beside her and apparently had seen the hope on Aimee’s face. “Just Rein ain’t half bad. I wouldn’t push him out of bed for eating crackers, if you know what I mean.”

  Aimee sighed and tossed her a smile. “I think I’ll go see if his brothers can enlighten me as to what Mr. Kinnison is doing these days.”

  She weaved her way through the crowd and stopped once or twice to thank those she recognized for coming. There were even those who were interested in becoming sponsors if it should become an annual event. Overwhelmed by the generous support, Aimee took their names and phone numbers in case she chose to do it again next year. Finally, she made her way to the booth where Wyatt’s brothers sat. “Mind if I join you for a minute?” Rein moved over to make room.

  “Thanks for coming, guys.” She looked around the crowded room and then back to Dalton. “Couldn’t convince your brother to come, huh?” She caught Rein’s quick glance at Dalton and red flags went up in her mind. She had a bad feeling if she pressed too much, she might not like what she heard and it would ruin her evening. And she damn sure wasn’t about to pine over Wyatt like some prom date gone bad.

  Dalton removed his hat and scratched his dark beard. Aimee figured he was searching for a diplomatic way to explain the truth. Maybe she didn’t really want to know, but just in case, she wanted to have the upper hand.

  “Listen, I don’t mean to put you on the spot. I’ve known since I first met Wyatt that he prefers to do things his way. He also told me he hates crowds, fundraisers, and just about every community event.” She stood and wanted to add that she’d hoped what happened between them meant enough to have his support, but clearly it hadn’t, and so she kept quiet. There was no reason to drag his brothers into the fray. Aimee looked up and coming through the door met the eyes of a man she hadn’t seen in a while. He offered her a lopsided grin and made a beeline toward her. She eased back into the booth and hoped Mr. Metallica didn’t remember her. “You were saying?” She clasped her hands and looked at Dalton. With any luck, he’d walk right by.

  “Hey there, sugarbee. We heard about your little fundraiser and me and the boys thought we ought to stop by and give you a little donation.” Steven and his buddies gave Aimee, Rein, and Dalton the once-over.

  “Dusty has jars all over the place for your donations. If you’d like to take a shot at the karaoke machine, it’s only five dollars.” She gave him a pleasant smile.

  He grinned, pulled out a crumpled fifty-dollar bill, and snapped it between his fingers. He slapped it on the table in front of her. “That’s for the cause, sugarbee, but we’d like to request that you sing us a song.”

  Aimee nodded and reached for the bill, but the man pulled it from her grasp with a wicked grin. Rein shifted in his seat next to her.

  “You get this…after you sing, sugarbee.” His gaze touched on the men seated with her.

  Aimee nodded. Amid the male tension, her first and only thought was to get rid of Steven and his posse.

  “Later, sugarbee.”

  She took a deep breath and turned toward the departing group. “My name is not—”

  Rein touched her arm.

  “Not worth it, Aimee. Let it go. Think of the cause.”

  “He’s an ass.”

  “Agreed, but definitely not worth the trouble he could cause.”

  She considered his words and glanced at Dalton, letting her blood pressure slowly return to normal. “You’re right,” she said.

  Dalton offered her a congenial smile. “Wyatt happen to mention why he hates this place?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  For the third time, Wyatt flipped through one hundred seventy three channels. He glanced at the tree sparkling quietly in the corner. He’d started to take it down the day after Christmas but received protests from Rein and Dalton, who wanted to leave it up until at least after the New Year. But like the half-eaten sandwich and glass of milk in front of him, the tree, the snow, the kitchen counter—nearly every damn thing in his life reminded him of Aimee. He could rope and brand a cow, even face a mountain lion, but he refused to acknowledge the tender seedlings of what he felt for this eccentric, blue-eyed schoolteacher. Dalton’s insistence earlier had caused him to dig his heels in even further.

  “You stubborn, old S.O.B., don’t you realize you might be throwing away the best thing that ever happened to you?” His brother stood at the door with his jacket in hand. Rein had gone out to warm up the truck.

  “Dalton, we butt heads every time we get on this subject. You know how I feel about Dusty’s.” Wyatt felt Dalton’s penetrating gaze boring into the back of his skull and looked over his shoulder. Yep, there it was.

  “Forget about the bar, Wyatt. I’m talking about supporting Aimee. She seems nice, really nice. And God help me if I know why, but I think she may even like you.”

  Wyatt ignored the jab and continued to surf the cable channels.

  “The entire town has turned out to support her event, Wyatt. It’s a good cause. Don’t you think you could get over what’s in the past and take a chance on this girl?”

  “I will when I’m good and ready,” Wyatt answered. Dalton meant well, he knew, but Wyatt’s head was still at battle with his heart. Her couldn’t handle that kind of hurt again.

  “She’s not Jessie. And she sure as hell isn’t Eloise.”

  Wyatt kept his eyes on the screen, punching the button without thought, without caring what was on. Sadie lay on the couch beside him. She plopped her chin in his lap and sighed. “My sentiments, exactly, girl,” he muttered to the canine.

  “Fine, you fool. Go ahead and sit here. Feel fuckin’ sorry for yourself about stuff that happened a long time ago. Meantime, Rein and I are headed to Dusty’s to let Aimee know she has the support of at least two of the men from the Last Hope Ranch.”

  His emphasis on “men” was not lost on Wyatt, who bounded to his feet to issue his brother a warning, but the front door slammed before he could open his mouth. Wyatt found himself alone, staring at the door. He plopped back on the couch, and accidentally roused Sadie from her slumber. She groaned, crept off the sofa, and padded to her bed near the fireplace.

  He picked up the remote again and pointed it toward the television.

  Possibility gives us a future of precious moments.

  The line from one of her poems popped into his brain. His thumb hit the channel button and an image of a home-shopping show appeared. The thought occurred to him that he could sit at home all night, stubborn and miserable, and eventually wonder what moves Dalton might be using on Aimee. Or he could go make an appearance, support her cause, and maybe bring her home with him tonight, where in private, they could hash out whatever was going between them. He shut off the television, unplugged the tree, and closed the fireplace doors. “Keep an eye on things.” He pointed at Sadie. He looked down at his stained T-shirt and struggled to pull it over his head as he headed to the bedroom to clean up.

  Thirty minutes later, smelling like God’s gift to women, Wyatt pulled his truck into a spot
he saw open up in the crowded lot. He hadn’t been to the bar in a long time, but he couldn’t remember it ever being this packed. The place must be overflowing to the back patio. His boots crunched on the snow-laden gravel and a time or two he pondered the wisdom of his idea. A roar of applause from inside caught his attention, and he climbed the steps of the front porch like a man headed to the gallows. With a deep breath, he yanked open the door and a blast of music and hot air smacked him in the face. Despite Dusty’s current no-smoking policy, the aging floor and ceiling, warmed by numerous bodies, still made it smell the same. He stepped inside the door, took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimly lit interior, and fought off an immediate rush of painful memories. He stood frozen in his spot, people milling around him. He recognized very few and debated whether this was a good idea. His gaze was drawn to the stage, where some guy attempted to sing a song that he obviously didn’t know. However, determined to do what he needed to do for Aimee, he spotted a cover-charge jar, pulled out a ten, and stuffed it in with the wad of bills. He scanned the room looking for Rein and Dalton. Most of the tables and booths were full, as was every seat at the bar. While he kept an eye peeled for Aimee, he spotted his brothers at a booth on the opposite side of the room. He started toward them and got stopped by Michael and his wife, Rebecca.

  “Glad to see you here.” His father’s friend smiled and shook Wyatt’s hand. Anxious to sit down and get out of the crowd, Wyatt excused himself and made it to the booth.

  “One of you scoot over,” Wyatt stated simply. Rein didn’t hide his shock as he slid over. Wyatt attempted to look comfortable, but caught his brother’s smug grin. He spotted Dalton’s longneck, grabbed it, and took a pull from the bottle. Instead of their normal smartass remarks, they stared at him in disbelief.

  “What? Can’t a guy change his mind?”

  Rein smiled finally and Dalton rose to go get them another round. “Aimee asked about you,” Dalton said as he slid back into his seat. He pushed a bottle toward Wyatt.

  “Did she?” he commented. The bottle stopped midway to his mouth as his comment hit his brain. He glanced at his brother’s face and saw his mouth curl into a smile.

  “You want to know what I told her?” Dalton leaned forward, pointing his bottle toward Wyatt.

  Every nerve in Wyatt’s body was stretched thin. He was aware of Sally at the bar, who looked at him, then leaned over to Betty and whispered something. Dalton was pushing his buttons. Again.

  “Not really,” he responded, taking a long swallow of his beer.

  “Maybe you should listen this time, Wyatt,” Rein suggested.

  At that moment, a loud whoop went up from the crowd, followed by a thunderous applause drowning out the rest of the conversation. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway as Wyatt’s brain all but stopped when Aimee took the stage and shaded her eyes from the bright light. She picked up the microphone and smiled at the crowd. It brought another round of applause.

  Wyatt’s heart faltered as he took in how damn sexy she looked in her pink rhinestone T-shirt, short denim skirt, and soft brown cowboy boots. He followed her gaze, though it was hard to take his eyes off her as she pointed toward the bar where Sally sat. Right next to Principal Kale, he realized.

  “I’d like to thank Dusty, Betty, and Jerry, and my partner in crime, Sally Anderson, for helping to make tonight’s Food Pantry fundraiser such a success.” She received more applause and Wyatt found his heart swell with pride at her accomplishment.

  “Anything for you, sugarbee,” a tough-looking guy hollered from one of the tables near the stage.

  The hairs on the back of Wyatt’s neck bristled. He gripped his beer and focused on Aimee instead, who seemed to be take things with her usual calm.

  “She sure has the audience eating out of her hand,” Rein commented. “She’s a remarkable woman.”

  Wyatt took another draw of his beer. He didn’t need to comment on what he already knew.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Dalton kicked him under the table.

  Wyatt glanced at his brother. “I’m here to support the cause, just like everyone else.”

  Rein leaned forward and smiled at him. “Right, not because you have a vested interest in anyone in particular?”

  “Shut up.” Wyatt took a long swallow and polished off his beer. He felt the stirrings of a gentle buzz in his brain, and realized it’d been quite a while since he’d had alcohol of any kind. Rein offered to buy the next round but Wyatt refused. He wanted to be of sound body and mind.

  “Okay y’all.”

  Wyatt smiled at her city-girl attempt at being country.

  “I don’t claim to be good at this, but someone challenged me with a pledge of fifty dollars and for that I’ll do anything.” A couple of hoots went up from a back table and the crowd erupted in laughter. Aimee waved her hand at them in dismissal. “Get your minds out of the gutter, you guys. This is for a good cause.” She perched on the edge of a barstool. Wyatt felt a stab of jealousy as he realized more eyes than his noticed how her miniskirt rode up a bit on her thigh. She hooked her heel on the bottom rung of the stool and looked down at the floor. “I’d like to dedicate this to my sister. It was one of her favorite songs. She…um, was my twin and much stronger in many ways than I am. But she taught me to never to settle.” Aimee looked out over the near-silent crowd. “She believed life should be lived with passion. Take more risks, she’d say to me.” Her soft chuckle came through on the mike.

  Wyatt gently rolled his empty bottle between his hands and remembered their talk about her sister in his kitchen.

  “Well, suffice it to say, coming here to End of the Line was a big risk for me.” She grinned.

  “We love you, Aimee,” Sally yelled across the room.

  Aimee shook her head. “Well, here’s to you Sarah and to all the possibilities that lie ahead.”

  For the next few moments, Wyatt sat mesmerized in stunned silence, along with the crowd, as Aimee belted out the words to Jo Dee Messina’s “Burn.” Moved by her song, by who she’d been when she was with him, Wyatt stood as she finished and headed toward the stage, ready, if need be, to make a public declaration of the feelings he’d denied. His chest ached; his body ached, everything ached to be with her, to hold her close. She smiled, and blinded by the spotlight, handed off the mike to the next singer amid a standing ovation.

  “Now wait a minute, sugarbee.” A loudmouth jerk in a black T-shirt rose from his chair and pushed his way toward her. He waved his money in the air. “Here’s that fifty I promised.”

  Aimee shielded her eyes from the light and gasped aloud, startled when he grabbed her around the waist. She showed her good nature and smiled each time she lunged for the bill and he held it from her in search of a kiss. The crowd was in an uproar, finding it funny, but Wyatt was not amused by the performance. Dalton called out to him, but he was deadly serious about what he had to do.

  “Come on, sugarbee. Give us a kiss and I’ll add another ten to this.”

  Like hell.

  His gaze narrowed as he assessed the situation. If she knew him and enjoyed his slime ball flirtations, then this idea had disaster written all over it. Wyatt reached out and tapped the guy on the shoulder. “Why don’t you just give the lady her money, friend?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at Wyatt. “Why don’t you take a hike, cowboy? Aimee and I are old friends. We met right here at Dusty’s, in fact, I even bought her first drink here.”

  First? He looked at Aimee, whose stricken eyes pleaded with him not to make a scene. Goddamn. How many times would he have to get burned before he learned? Anger welled inside him. Years of the pain he’d stuffed deep into his soul tore through and clawed its way out. He blinked and suddenly the world around him became crystal-clear.

  He grabbed the man’s shirt, jerked him around, and planted his fist smack-dab in the middle of the smirk on his face. He was pretty certain something broke in the process, though he wasn’t sure if it was his fingers, or the guy’s nose
. No longer as cocky, the man stumbled backward and landed sprawled across a table. Patrons scattered, chairs toppled, and bottles and glasses crashed to the floor. The bar went silent as everyone waited to see what would happen next. Wyatt shook out the soreness in his hand and reached over to pluck the fifty off the floor. He handed it to Aimee, who stared at him with a mixture of shock and disappointment etched on her beautiful face. “Sorry,” he mumbled and headed for the door.

  “Wyatt.” She called to him but he was in no mood to go into a lengthy explanation about his behavior. He’d snapped and by doing so sealed his fate as a bona fide small-town asshole for a good long while.

  “Wyatt Kinnison, you stop right there.” It was her teacher voice.

  He stopped and turned slowly to face her. She was walking quickly as she struggled with that sorry pink excuse for a winter coat. He braced himself for what was about to come and for what he probably deserved, but he just didn’t give a damn. She halted in front of him, her clear blue eyes ablaze.

  “What the hell was that?” she demanded.

  His nerves were still on edge. He was pissed at the jerk inside, at himself, and he didn’t know how to make things right. He pushed up his hat. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” she repeated.

  He blew out a heavy sigh. “Aimee. I’ll take care of the mess. I’ll even make a sizable donation to the Food Pantry, but right now I’ve got to go.” He started to leave. She grabbed his arm and yanked him to a stop.

  “Jesus, Aimee, what is it you want from me?”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “For starters, how about the truth?”

  ***

  Aimee wasn’t about to let him leave until she had her say. With what she now understood, thanks to Dalton’s explanation, she was even more determined, if not a little ticked, to make him realize that she wasn’t like the other women in his life who’d strung him along and left him. “I’m not like her.” If her hunch was correct, she figured this little show was him coming to grips with how he felt about her. Either way, it was time to make him face his demons. “Admit it, Wyatt. You think I’m going to be like the other women who’ve left you. Well, I’ve got something to say about—”