Faith could almost feel the knots in her body starting to dissolve. “This is fine,” she replied. Mallory crossed to a large armoire by the bathroom door and opened both doors. A TV sat on a top shelf over another shelf that flipped forward to make a writing desk. Faith had to fight the urge to just collapse on the big bed.
“Why don’t we go down for your things, then you can settle in and get your rest?”
Five minutes later, Faith had her bag and computer in the room and she was closing the door behind her and locking it. While she’d retrieved her things from the car, Mallory had put a pitcher of ice water along with a glass on a tray by the bed. A chocolate mint lay on the fluffy pillows piled against the headboard, and the scent of roses faintly drifted on the warm air.
Faith felt weariness wash over her. She sank down onto the bed, tugged off her boots and pushed back until she was half sitting against the pillows. The chocolate fell to one side and slid to the floor, but she didn’t pick it up. She thought she’d rest for a few minutes, then set up the computer on the desk and pull up the files.
The next thing Faith knew, she woke with a start, and for a second she couldn’t remember where she was, but then the world settled. One look at the bedside clock showed her she’d been asleep for over two hours. It was almost eight o’clock. She got off the bed, stretching her hands over her head. Should she just go to her car and get the leftovers she had from Willie G.’s place or see if there was someplace close by to get something hot to eat?
She tugged on her boots, grabbed her jacket, her car keys and wallet, then went downstairs. A man and woman were relaxing in front of the fireplace. On the table in front of them were wineglasses, a carafe of deep red wine, and a platter of crackers, meat and cheese.
If things had been normal, she would have said hello to the couple, filled a plate with cheese and crackers, poured a glass of wine and gone back up stairs. But since she’d left Chicago, she hadn’t been normal. She stayed away from people as much as possible to avoid contact, hopefully without looking odd or being remembered by any of them.
No one was behind the reception desk, so she avoided seeing the owner. She quietly passed behind the couple, reached the door and cringed at the soft chime that sounded when she opened it. She quickly slipped out into the biting cold.
She got into her car, started the engine and the heater, then put her things on the passenger seat and let herself relax for a moment. Slowly, she backed out onto the street and turned away from the direction she’d entered the town. She drove along the deserted street and spotted a modest shop that was open. Its neon light proclaimed it as The Hitching Post, along with advertisements for sandwiches, burgers, cold drinks and doughnuts. A real mixture of offerings, she thought as she stopped her car in front of the low brick structure.
The snow had let up a bit, she noted as she left her car and sprinted into the store. She got a sandwich, some cookies and a take-out cup of coffee. When she reached her car, her attention was drawn by raised voices close by.
“Jack!” a male voice ordered. “We have to talk this over.”
She glanced over and saw two men nearby on the sidewalk. One had his back to her. He was at least six feet or more, with broad shoulders that tested the seams of a leather jacket trimmed in shirred wool that he wore with jeans and black cowboy boots. She took in the sound of his quick breathing as he faced the other man.
Faith couldn’t see that man’s face, since it was lost in the shadows and he had a cap pulled low on his face. He was in a blue down jacket with dark pants and running shoes. She couldn’t see his expression, but she didn’t miss the edge to his voice when he countered, “Leave me alone! I am not a charity case, and I don’t need you suggesting—”
“Hey, I’m not here for charity,” the first man said in a lower, calmer voice. “I came because—”
The man in the cap spun on his heel and hurried off with a wave of one hand over his shoulder. “Go back to where you came from,” he said as he strode off down the sidewalk.
Faith realized she’d been eavesdropping and quickly went to open her car door. But before she could escape, the remaining man turned abruptly and ran right into her. Her coffee flew out of her hand, and her bag of food fell at her feet along with her wallet and keys.
She bent quickly to gather what she could, and the man did the same, his large hand grabbing her bag while she got the rest. “I’m really sorry,” he said as they crouched and faced each other.
She looked up into a face with sharp features, a strong jaw that showed a new beard, then eyes as dark as the night around them. She felt flustered under his intent gaze and stood. He matched her action and seemed to tower over her. “I...I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she said in a breathless voice. “I’m sorry.” She looked away from the man, her gaze landing on her coffee, which had spilled right by her car. “Oh, shoot.”
“What were you drinking?” the stranger asked.
“Just plain old coffee,” she muttered, frowning at the still spreading pool of brown liquid that was melting the snow beneath it.
Before she realized what he was doing, the stranger had gone into the shop. She could guess what he was up to, and soon he returned with a cup in his hand, which he held out to her. “My treat,” he said with a smile that revealed a dimple on his right cheek.
“Oh, no,” she said, awkwardly trying to get her wallet open.
“I mean it,” he stated firmly. “I was distracted by...” He shrugged, his smile fading. “I feel it’s my duty to make sure a visitor’s stay in Wolf Lake is a pleasant one.”
She was thankful her mouth didn’t drop open with surprise that he’d spotted her as a visitor so easily. “How would you know that?”
“Easy,” he said and that dimple was gone.
Faith felt her anxiety rising. Enough was enough. She quickly took the coffee he offered her, ignoring the warm touch of his hand, and said, “Thank you.”
He inclined his head slightly, looked past her and his brows knit together questioningly. She turned to see he was checking out her car. “You’re from Illinois?”
She nodded as she opened the car door and slipped inside. She set her things down, wanting to close the door, but the man was still there, blocking her. “Yes, from Illinois.”
“You’re a long way from home,” he said.
In that moment, she felt intensely her total isolation, and she almost hated him for saying it out loud to her. “A long way,” she echoed.
He had his hand on the top of the door frame. “I’m Adam,” he said, expecting her to give him her name, but she didn’t.
“And you live here,” she finished for him.
“Used to. Right now I’m just home for Christmas.”
He wasn’t aware of her situation, thankfully, but everything he said made her feel sad. He was home for Christmas, and she knew she wouldn’t be. She wouldn’t be home for her birthday or New Year’s Eve, and probably not for a long while. She felt the heat of tears stinging her eyes and quickly said her thanks.
He drew back, and she slammed the door shut with more force than she intended to. Without looking at him again, she pulled onto the street and drove back to the inn. She was worse off than she thought she was if a total stranger could make her feel this way just by making innocent conversation. She really needed to relax and calm down for more than a few days.
But she couldn’t and she hated that. The tears came silently. She hated tears, too, but couldn’t stop them, either. Like so much else in her life...
CHAPTER FOUR
A
DAM
WATCHED
THE
WOMAN
with the soft dark curls, amazing blue eyes and a voice that was slightly breathless drive away and he felt stunned. First by her, then by the car she was driving.
When he’d turned into her, so angry at Jack that he could barely see straight, he’d stopped dead. In front of him was a woman with delicate features, incredible eyes and a creamy complexion. He had to admit that just then he’d all but forgotten about Jack.
Their fight was nothing new. His brother had always been stubborn, not one to accept help, and Adam had figured out ages ago that going head-to-head with him was a mistake. But he’d forgotten that earlier and regretted it now. He’d try again. He wasn’t giving up, nor was he going to give up on the small but smart-looking woman he’d towered over.
Tiny but resolute when she’d tried to refuse that replacement cup of coffee. And even when he’d persisted and won, he hadn’t felt he’d had a victory as much as she’d allowed him to do it to stop any argument.
Then the car. The blue compact with Illinois plates on it. The same car John had stopped on the road to Wolf Lake. John had had a feeling about her, a hunch, and Adam had seen something himself in her expression. It wasn’t really fear, maybe anxiousness—something he was having a hard time defining anyway. Uncertainty, impatience? He could usually read people quite easily, but not her.
He finally headed down the street toward where he’d parked his truck and gone looking for Jack. He pushed his hands into his pockets and hunched into the wind. The blue car was gone, the red taillights swallowed up by the night. Running into that woman had cut through his frustration with Jack, easing it briefly, but now it was back. He loved his brother, but his resistance had stunned him. No, he didn’t understand losing someone like that, but he wanted to help and he would.
He got to his truck, climbed in and went directly to the family ranch, where he was staying in the guesthouse. “Welcome home,” he said to the emptiness around him. He had the crazy image of a woman waiting there to greet him; she had dark curls and a smile he wished he hadn’t seen. “Stupid,” he muttered, but that didn’t blot out the memory of those blue eyes.
* * *
I
NCREDIBLY
, F
AITH
SLEPT
well that night, no dreams, no nervously waking only to realize that no one was pounding on her door wanting to arrest her. It was just past eight, and she got up right away, dressed and glanced at the paper sack that still held the untouched sandwich from the night before.
She felt better, and she had a feeling it was time to just go and not stay a second day. Wolf Lake was nice but so small, and she knew she’d be conspicuous. The man the night before had spotted her for a visitor, and others would, too. The visitor who wasn’t doing any sightseeing, she thought and knew it was time to drive on.
She got her things together and arrived at the registration desk an hour later. The couple from the night before were helping themselves to coffee and Danish pastries. Mallory was behind the desk.
“Good morning,” the woman said, eyeing Faith’s bags in either hand. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
“Yes, I need to check out.”
Mallory frowned with concern. “You aren’t happy with the room? I told you, I could move you—”
“No, it’s not that. I had a good rest and really need to get on the road again.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, then her smile flashed. “Well, if you’re ever near Wolf Lake again, come on back and stay a bit longer.” She counted out Faith’s refund for the unused second night.
Faith wished she could stay, but she knew she’d never be back to this town. “Thanks,” she said again, collecting her things and heading for the door.
The morning was gray and cold. Snow from the night before covered everything, and only a couple of cars were driving down the recently plowed street. She spotted patches of ice on the black asphalt.
The interior of her car was freezing. Quickly, she pushed the key into the ignition. The engine turned over and she flipped on the heater. She was thinking about heading north to Colorado as she reached for the gearshift. Everything came to a stop as she caught a whiff of something burning followed by a sudden sputter of the engine right before it died. She stared at the gauges, saw a check-engine light was on and noticed the acrid smell in the air.
This couldn’t be happening. This car was everything to her. She couldn’t rent one and risk leaving a trail for the authorities to find. There was no bus or train service handy. And she couldn’t walk. The best-laid plans never worked out, Faith thought, trying the key again. Nothing. Not even a click.
The temperature was bitter cold. She just shook her head. So many things she hadn’t taken into consideration. The car was used. Because it had been running so well for the past two weeks, the thought of it breaking down hadn’t even entered her mind.
She grabbed her wallet and got out of the car, locking it. It took a full second before she realized she’d just left her keys in the ignition. She wanted to scream or maybe laugh at the absurdity of the moment. Instead, she made herself breathe evenly and think. A mechanic. Surely Wolf Lake had an auto repair shop somewhere.
With a heavy sigh, she returned to the inn. Mallory was still behind the registration desk. She looked up as the chime sounded and saw Faith. “Hey, did you forget something?” she began, then her smile faltered as she saw Faith’s expression. “What’s wrong?” she asked, quickly coming around the desk.
“My car won’t start. I just wanted to know where I can find a mechanic.”
“Sure, of course. Just farther down the street.” She motioned to the west. “Manaw’s Garage is on the other side of the street, three or four blocks down.” She gestured at the phone on the desk. “Let me call him,” she said, reaching for the receiver.
“Oh, no,” Faith said quickly. She didn’t want the woman involved any more than she already was. “I can walk down there.”
Mallory hesitated. “You sure?”
“Absolutely. I appreciate the offer, though,” she said to soften her refusal. “I’ll get going.”
Mallory called after her, “Ask for Dent.”
Faith waved a hand and stepped back outside. She got to the street, headed west, and after a couple of blocks, she spotted her target. She crossed the street and arrived at Manaw’s Garage.
The building looked old and settled, with none of the cuteness of faux adobe or Old West touches. It was weathered wood and stone, with twin gas pumps standing by the street in front of the two service bays. As she approached the closest one, she spotted the mechanic, a short, stocky man with a shaved head wearing an oil-stained denim jacket over equally stained orange overalls.
He stood under an ancient truck raised on a lift and turned when her boots hit the cement floor with a dull thud. He came out from under the truck and smiled. “How’s it going, little lady?”
Little lady? She almost smiled at that. Wolf Lake could be quaint. “My car broke down. The battery, I think. It won’t start.”
“The make and year?”
She told him and finished with, “It’s over at—”
“The Inn. I know,” he said, rubbing his dirty hands on a soiled rag.
“How did—”
“I know?” he asked for her. “Saw the car there this morning. Always notice a new car in town. Assumed you were staying there.”
Faith was grateful she could dismiss the irritation she’d felt thinking Mallory had called after she’d asked her not to. Faith guessed everyone that lived here pretty much knew everything going on. “Well, it’s there, and I accidently locked the keys in it.”
He grinned. “I can get in any car in less than a minute,” he assured her, and she wondered if that was a good thing. “I’ll be over there in an hour or so.”
“How long do you think it will take to fix it?”
“No way to tell until I get a look-see at the problem. If it’s a battery, no time. Be done today. But if it’s more, I don’t know. Depends on what and how bad it is. Just give me a number to reach you at, and I’ll be in touch as soon as I figure it out.”
Her heart sank. She didn’t want to give out the number of the pay-as-you-go cell she’d bought before leaving Texas. No one had that number. Then she knew what she’d have to do, at least for the next few hours. “I’m at the inn, so you can call there.” She would check with Mallory during the day.
“Great.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
“I’m no sir. I’m Denton Manaw, sole owner and head mechanic at this establishment. But people call me Dent.”
“Dent,” she repeated. “I’m Faith. And thank you again.”
He nodded, then got back to work on the truck.
She walked away slowly, toward the inn, taking her time, checking out the town. Wolf Lake felt so comfortable, as if it belonged right where it was, as native to the area as the buttes and mesas were. No rush, no fuss, and nice people, if they were like Mallory and Dent. The memory of Adam came to her. He was nice, too, she suspected. He’d bought her another coffee and obviously felt bad about running into her.
She glanced into several windows decked out for Christmas and considered what it would be like to live in a place like this. It was a world away from Chicago in more ways than one. When she spotted the same coffee shop she’d gone to the previous evening, she ducked inside, ordered coffee and a pastry, then took a table by the window that overlooked the street. Slow and easy. It was good to just sit still for a bit. There was nothing else she could do, so she sipped her steaming coffee and nibbled on the flaky pastry.
She hadn’t been there more than ten minutes when she looked out the window and spied a tall man striding down the sidewalk. He was heading in her direction. There were the leather jacket, faded jeans and boots she recognized. Adam, she thought, but now he had a dark Stetson pulled low to shadow his face. He walked quickly, an obvious destination in mind, and she wondered if he was searching for the man he’d argued with the night before.
As he got nearer, he glanced up and to his left, then waved to someone across the street and kept walking. As he got closer, she had to fight an impulse to move back from the window. But she stayed put as he came abreast of her on the other side of the glass. She looked down into her coffee, sure that he was going to pass without noticing her. She was wrong.
There was a tap on the window, and she looked up, knowing who she’d see. Adam. His intense gaze was on her, then the smile she’d seen last night, the one dimple exposed by the expression. He looked rugged and confident, as if he fit right in at Wolf Lake. She managed a nod, formed what she hoped was a pleasant smile for him, and all the while her heart was hammering against her ribs.
Please keep walking,
she pleaded silently, but he had no intention of going past with a mere wave and a smile. He headed for the shop’s entrance, all but dwarfing the space. In a few strides he was at her table. Without hesitating or asking if it was okay, he pulled out a chair and sat across from her, taking off the Stetson and putting in on an empty chair by him.
His eyes flicked to her coffee. “I promise not to get too close to that,” he said with that wry grin.
Did the man know what effect he had on women, or was he one of those guys who didn’t have a clue? Staring into his dark eyes, she wasn’t sure. His smile was genuine, his body language showed ease, and if he smiled fully again, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. But she knew she wasn’t going to drink any more coffee. She kept her hands clasped in her lap under the table.
He glanced out the window, then back at her. “So how’s it going for you in Wolf Lake?”
“Good,” she said tentatively, “although I really haven’t seen much of what’s around here.”
His gaze held hers and that made her even more nervous. “Maybe you need a tour guide,” he said, one dark eyebrow lifted slightly.
Darn, he was... She erased that image, knowing any thoughts about him being sexy were out of order, especially given the circumstances. “No, I’m leaving today.” She hoped that was the truth. “I’m just getting a few things done before I go.”
For a moment she thought she saw a flash of disappointment in those eyes, but the recovery was so swift, she was sure she’d imagined it. “Well,” he murmured, “I hope you get back sometime, and if I’m here...” He shrugged. “Who knows?”
What she knew was that wouldn’t happen. That made her feel... She didn’t know, but it wasn’t pleasant. It was all so bizarre. At any other time, if Adam had sat down across from her, she would have definitely talked with him, got to know him a bit, to maybe let whatever he was hinting at blossom, but that was out of the question. “Who knows?” she repeated softly.
He frowned, his head tipped slightly to one side as if considering something. He leaned forward, his forearms on the table, his strong hands clasped together. He paused before he finally spoke again. “You know, to be honest, I’ve got the feeling that I’m a problem for you.” The smile was gone completely now.
Shock zinged through her, and she didn’t know what to say. A problem? “What?”
“Maybe not a problem, but I’m making you upset and I’m sorry for that.” She had a heart-stopping moment when his hand moved and she thought he was going to reach out and make contact with her. Thankfully, he didn’t. “I’m going out on a limb here, because I’m not sure what’s going on, but if you need help, someone to talk to, I’m a great listener.” She wasn’t sure what expression she had on her face because he quickly added, “Just someone to
talk
to.”
His offer was genuine, she could sense that, and that was what terrified her. He could tell she was alone, that she had no one to confide in and that she would have loved to have that luxury.
What scared her the most was his reading her so perfectly when she’d thought she was being so outwardly contained. “No,” she sputtered, her panic rising to the surface. “There’s nothing, not anything.” She tried to slow herself down, to actually sound as if she were fine. “But it was good meeting you,” she said, acknowledging how much she really meant that. She reached for her wallet. “I need to go.”