Cutter Mountain Rendezvous (3 page)

Or was she a Mrs.?

Chapter Three

The next morning, Kate drove into Bear Creek. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to buy primer. After a quick stop at the hardware store, she intended to head straight back home when she spotted Bobby’s overall-clad rear sticking out from under the old truck she called him to tow.

Feeling guilty she made him feel dumb, she put her reservations aside and decided to talk to him about the painting Cousin Jeff suggested he could finish. It was obvious she didn’t know what she was doing. She also wanted to know what he thought of the cowboy who easily weaseled out her address. A good judge of character, Bobby would tell her straight up what he thought.

“Hey, Bobby,” she called through the open window of her truck and pulled in next to where he was working.

Bobby lifted his head and bonked it on the truck hood. He swore and straightened his grimy orange cap, giving her a nod as she approached. “Kate.”

Her resolve wavered. Did she really want Bobby, the class klutz, wielding a paintbrush around tight corners in her place? “What’s wrong with the cowboy’s truck?”

“Everything.” Bobby dropped a wrench on the ground and stooped to pick it up. “And he ain’t no cowboy.” His brown eyes suggested she was Clueless in Bear Creek.

“Duh, I know. He’s a carpenter. I just called him a cowboy because he was wearing a cowboy hat.” Her childish snootiness made her cringe. It seemed she and Bobby always slipped back into the role of quibbling schoolmates.

“Actually,” the cowboy’s smooth, melodic voice broke in and made her heart skip a beat, “the name on the door is my dad’s.”

Kate’s gaze darted between the truck door and the cowboy as he sauntered from Bobby’s garage, holding a can of Dr Pepper. He gave her a dazzling smile. It definitely enhanced his appearance, which was a tad scruffier than yesterday. Had he slept in his truck? She smiled back. “I see your dad was a World Champion bull rider.”

“Yep. Stayed atop a bull named Dirty Harry long enough to earn him that title. Just about the time he thought he was clear of him, the bull twisted in a three-sixty and shattered his hip. Dirty Harry lived up to his name and Dad’s title was delivered to him in a hospital room.”

“Oh my.” Kate’s hand went to her throat. “Was he all right?”

“After a time. Limped the rest of his life.”

“How horrible.” She worked to keep her eyes from wandering to the cowboy’s leg. She noticed a slight hitch in his walk and thought he might be that cowboy kicked by the bull and telling her a tall tale. Maybe she should help him out after all and give him the finish carpentry work.

The revving roar of a motor came from inside Bobby’s garage and filled the air, making talk impossible. Kate lowered her head under the truck hood and yelled, “Bobby!”

Bobby bumped his head and straightened up. He squinted at her from under his cap. “I’m busy here, in case you cain’t tell.”

“I can see that but I’ve a quick question.” The revving stopped, and Kate lowered her voice. “I came to ask if you have time to do painting. Cousin Jeff sent the cowboy here to give me an estimate on finish carpentry and said you sometimes paint for him.” She tried not to visualize his grease-encrusted nails and fingers wrapped around a paint roller with Richmond Bisque paint.

“Cain’t. This here’s a priority.” Bobby tilted his head her direction and screwed up his face. “Jeff knows Colton?”

****

Colton leaned against his truck, listening to their banter. He almost laughed out loud when Bobby said his beater was a priority. She looked at Bessie then Bobby like he didn’t know jack from shit followed by a real sense of relief when he declined to paint. It left him to wonder why she bothered to ask him when she turned her startling green eyes on him. They held a smorgasbord of questions but no recognition.

Colton held her gaze. Kate was cute as a button, and a spitfire. Fresh-faced with her hair up in a ponytail, her nose was lightly dusted with freckles. She looked sixteen and illegal.

“How
does
Cousin Jeff know you?” she asked.

“Cousin who?”

“Jeff. Jeff Crockett. My cousin.”

“Kate,” Bobby interrupted. “Colton here is a famous ballplayer. The
Bullets
.” His eyes bugged as he gave a nod toward the same bold letters across Colton’s gray T-shirt. Three fake bullet holes were peppered in a random pattern.

“I’m on hiatus from the Bullets,” Colton was quick to add, seeing her jaw tighten. “I might not be a carpenter by profession but I spent many hours with my dad and brother doing carpentry. I paint too.”

Kate ran a critical eye over him, worrying her bottom lip. A soft petal he hoped she wouldn’t damage as she tried to decide if his deception made for a man she wanted working at her place. Didn’t she know anything about baseball?

“No thanks,” she finally said and stuck her pointy chin in the air. “I need someone longer than you’ll be around. You’ve got the best mechanic in Blount County. Bobby can fix anything. You’ll be gone by noon.”

“Don’t think so,” Bobby said from beneath the hood.

Colton crumpled the pop can and made a perfect pitch into an open garbage bin. He gave her a cocky grin to which Kate rolled her eyes and did an about-face. “See you around, Bobby.”

“Drop by and see Ma,” Bobby said over his shoulder. “She’s been asking about you.”

“Tell her I’ll come by soon.”

Colton couldn’t take his eyes off Kate as she sashayed her way to the truck with digging steps. Gravel spit his direction before she burned rubber down the highway.

Bobby shook his head. “Kate’s had a lead foot ever since gettin’ her driver’s license. No one would believe her dad’s County Sheriff. She’d race through town just to git under his skin. ’Course, he was jest a deputy back then.”

Colton leaned on Bessie’s fender. “What’s Kate doing that she needs carpentry?”

“She thinks she’s going to run one of those bed-and-breakfast places. Now I ask you, does Kate look like Beulah?”

He considered Kate’s tight jeans that molded a cute little ass that swung with her ponytail as she high-tailed it to her truck. “Guess not.”

Beulah fit the bill for the motel and cafe she owned. She was round. Jovial. Smelled like apple pie. Kate left a whiff of summer in the air that made a man’s mind wander to places best left in Chicago. That is if you could look past her perpetual scowl most likely brought on by a husband. One that took the Lexus and made her drive the truck.

****

By the time Kate returned to her cabin, the sun had burned the heavy dew from the grass.

She sat on the top step of the front porch eating an apple, balancing a can of primer in the other hand. Aggravated she hadn’t thought to buy edging tape, she squinted to read the tiny print of the instructions.

Another trip to Bear Creek past Bobby’s garage was out of the question. She would wait a few days until the ballplayer Bobby thought the sun rose and set on was gone. Plenty of other things needed to be done. Like tighten the screws on the sagging screen door, and call Frank over in Walland about the finish carpentry.

Tires on gravel made her look up.

The paint can about slipped from her hand when Bobby’s black Dodge truck pulled in the drive. She swore under her breath. The driver was the ballplayer who wasn’t a cowboy or a carpenter.

She stayed put while he took his sweet time getting out of the truck. When he did, she hated being impressed as she watched him stretch his tall, muscular frame. “You buy Bobby’s truck off him?”

“It’s a good deal, don’t you think?”

“Only if it takes you back where you came from.” Why
that
made the cowboy grin was beyond her. But, oh that dimple she didn’t want to notice and caught her eye. He oozed more charisma than a tent preacher. “What can I do for you?”

“Bobby says you have a room I can rent until my truck gets patched up?”

Her jaw clenched. It would take some getting used to everyone in Bear Creek knowing her business. When she was a kid, it didn’t matter. As an adult, it was downright intrusive. “Nothing you’d want to stay in.”

“To tell you the truth, I’d appreciate a floor after a night on Bobby’s couch.”

“You
slept
in his trailer? How come?”

“Beulah’s was filled up. The other places too. If folks can find your cabin, you’ll have a gold mine.”

“They’ll find it. You did.” She looked down at his boots as he hiked one foot up on her porch step. They were expensive. Of course. Why would she think otherwise? By the time she met his gaze he was staring at her, his topaz eyes dark with a hint of challenge.

He stuck out his hand. “We didn’t formally meet. Colton Gray.”

She set down the paint can and pitched the apple to brush her hands on her jeans. She gave him a firm, businesswoman’s handshake. “Kathryn Crockett. Folks call me Kate.”

“Sorry about the misunderstanding.”

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t say anything. You mistook me for someone else.”

“Your omission was a lie.”

“Lie’s a strong word,” he said with a glint of tease in his eye and leaned a hand into the porch post. Kate’s pulse raced fast as a rabbit. She would have never accused her ex of lying. “Come on, Kate. Give me a break here.”

“I doubt you need a break. Where you from anyway?”

“Chicago. I had my dad’s old truck out for a spin and just kept going until she broke down.”

“Bobby said you’re a ballplayer, so why you out joyriding instead of playing ball?”

“Injured.” He turned his head to gaze out over her yard. “Where exactly am I?”

“Cutter Mountain.” She made note of his quick change of subject as he studied her property.
“Tom Cutter was a frontiersman in these parts. Bear trapper. You were up on Cutter Lookout and the lake behind my place is Cutter Lake.”

“Seems like Tom did well for himself.”

“Except for selling his bear pelts, he was a hermit. His one-room log cabin lies in shambles about a mile from here.”

“Nonetheless, he has a whole damned mountain named after him.”

“I guess he did.”

Colton shifted on his feet. “Bobby tells me my truck is down for the count. Even if he can get parts it will be a couple of weeks before its fit to drive back to Chicago. I need a place to stay. You need help. How about we make a deal?”

“As I said, I’ve got nothing you’d be interested in.”

“How about you let me be the judge of that?”

She blinked. “No disrespect, but you’re a stranger.”

“You intend to rent out rooms to strangers but
me
you won’t because you don’t know me? Honey, that ain’t gonna fly. You’ll go broke in no time.”

“Sorry, the inn’s not open for business. Besides the room doesn’t have any furniture.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“What part of no furniture didn’t you hear? Plus, I’ll need a reference. I don’t care whether Bobby knows you or not.”

“Call Judge Ludlow if you need a reference. I had breakfast with him this morning at Beulah’s. He’ll put in a good word for me. I signed a baseball for his grandson.”

“From Bobby’s couch to breakfast with Judge Ludlow is quite a leap, granted. But see, here’s the thing, I’m not set up to take charge cards yet. This would have to be a cash deal.” If that didn’t run him off, she didn’t know what would.

“Sure, no problem.”

She blew out a breath. “I give up. Come on in the house. I’ll give you a cup of coffee while I make a phone call.”

“Bless you.”

“Don’t bless me yet. I do intend to check you out. I don’t care if you’ve fraternized with the whole town of Bear Creek.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Kate.”

“You’ve no idea, cowboy.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve been known to be downright headstrong,” she told him of her former self and felt a prickle of pride.

“Must be the red hair. It has a reputation you know.”

“Auburn.” Didn’t men know auburn from red?

She had to admit his being a known athlete did play to his advantage. The mere knowledge of it put her at ease. Bobby knew baseball. He would never send a stranger to her place in his precious truck if he didn’t trust the guy. Not that she’d let Colton know. Nor would she tell him her dad, not Judge Ludlow, would be getting her call.

She yanked on the screen door with two hands. “Door sticks. Loose hinge.”

“Screen doors are my specialty. Unless there’s a Mr. around the house to fix it.”

“Divorced.”

Her exchange with Colton Gray represented her first grab at getting her feisty nature back. The one Cousin Jeff suggested she recapture. How nice it felt from the doormat she’d become married to Trey Benson. It was a cruel awakening to realize he saw her as a clean palette on which to sculpt an obedient trophy wife with no regard for her music. Talent she now doubted.

****

Colton sized her up as he followed. He figured she was of average height. The addition of a flannel shirt over her T-shirt blocked view of the shapely derrière he saw this morning.