For Love of a Cowboy (2 page)

“You got something to put these in?”

She jumped as he came up beside her. For a big man he moved incredibly quietly.

“Just the case I had them packed in,” Willow answered, gesturing to the now misshapen and useless trunk that sprawled open in the ditch.

She’d packed lightly for herself, thankful it was summer. Her mother’s backpack held much of the clothing Willow needed, not that she had all that much, and she’d used her luggage allowance for the flight for the ancient trunk to transport her precious wares and a few extra pieces of clothing. Now she didn’t know what to store them in.

An exasperated sigh huffed from the stranger’s lips. “I might have something in the truck.”

He was back in an instant with a couple of very large plastic bags. “These do?” he asked.

“Yes, thanks.”

He gave her a curt nod then carried on collecting her stash. He hesitated over a white rectangle that lay closer to the ditch.

“Is this yours, too?” he asked, straightening and holding the envelope up.

Willow felt her stomach lurch. The results. She’d forgotten. Well, not forgotten exactly, just put them out of her mind. She wasn’t ready to face the truth just yet. She reached out to snatch the envelope from his fingers and shoved it in the back pocket of her shorts.

“Yes, thank you.” She ignored the questioning look in his eyes. “You’ve missed some things over there,” she pointed out, earning a narrowed glance.

Despite the fact he was clearly annoyed with her, he continued picking up her things, and when he was done he handed her the last bag.

“Where are you headed?”

“Marietta,” she replied.

It was the place her mother had mentioned in her journal—where she’d attended the annual county fair all those years ago. The fair where she’d fallen for a cowboy who’d stolen her heart and left his child growing within her. Soon after, a recreational drugs possession charge, not her own, had seen her mom sent back to New Zealand. The charge had made it impossible for her to return and find the man with whom she’d left her heart. In time, she’d birthed and raised Willow and taught her every day that life was a gift not to be wasted.

Yes, Marietta was where Willow was going to find her father and connect with the man who’d been missing from her life for far too long and the place where, hopefully, she’d find a place to settle for good. Or at least for as long as she had left.

*

She was headed
to Marietta? Odd. It wasn’t exactly your standard hippie destination and she had hippie written all over her, from the narrow strip of leather tied across her forehead and braids that hung from her head to the idiotic van she drove. “What are you planning to do with all this stuff?”

“This
stuff
is my craft,” she said, taking the bags from him and clutching them to her body as if they were more precious than a baby. “I’ll knit some of it up and hopefully sell the rest at the county fair in the next couple of weeks.”

“Booths are all booked up,” he said bluntly.

He studied the woman and the vehicle she’d been traveling in. He could pick her type—an airhead drifter who caused trouble without even trying. Another thought occurred to him. If she was thinking of selling that yarn of hers, there was only one place in town she could do that—his sister’s craft store. And if she was headed there she would definitely meet his sister, Ness, whose big heart would fold around this crazy hippie—who would no doubt rip her off and then head off into the sunset, just like the last hard-luck story to appeal to his sister’s generous nature had. And probably on the wrong side of the road again. He sure as hell didn’t want that to happen. Ness had been through enough already.

He surveyed the damage to the VW and let a whistle slide through his lips.

“I dunno that Marietta is the right place. Tanner’s Garage won’t carry the parts you’re going to need to fix this mess. You’d be better off heading back to Livingston, or even Bozeman.”

Yeah, Bozeman, he thought. The further away the better. He fixed his gaze upon her to gauge her response to his suggestion. He’d happily call for her tow. Hell, he’d even pay for it if it meant she’d stay away from Marietta and Ness. His recently widowed sister was expecting her first baby in a couple of months. She always believed the best of people and was inclined to take in strays. This gal had “stray” written all over her from the top of her head to the battered desert boots at the end of long slender legs exposed by tiny denim shorts that had seen better days. Hell, he had patches on his work jeans that were in better condition. The fact she wasn’t wearing a bra under that floaty top thing she was wearing hadn’t escaped his notice, either.

He dragged his gaze back to her face. She worried at her lower lip with her teeth, the action sending an unexpected surge of lust straight to his groin. Damn, where had that come from? Sure, it had been a while, but seriously. This woman? Totally not his type. She looked like she was all into flowers and freedom and had never known a hard day’s work in her life.

“I really want to get to Marietta before it gets full dark,” she said worriedly. “I guess you couldn’t give me a ride could you?”

“Not heading in that direction,” he said firmly, even though it was less than ten minutes back down the road. “You’ll need to call a tow truck from Livingston.”

“No, if there’s a garage at Marietta that’ll do fine. Tanner’s did you say?”

He watched as she slid her cell phone from the pocket of those ridiculously short shorts. Her face, already showing signs of strain, crumpled when she saw the cracked and broken screen. Her attempts to bring the thing to life met with complete and utter failure.

“Oh no!” she cried. “It’s not working.”

“Must’ve happened when you hit the bank, huh?” he observed.

“How am I going to get to Marietta now?”

Why was she so all-fired keen to get to Marietta? Booth clenched his jaw as he sought the words that might convince her to change her mind but they eluded him. He cast her another look. A dark bruise had begun to form at her temple. She needed some ice on that and she probably needed to get off her feet before she fell down and did herself more damage. He made a decision, even though every instinct inside him roared at him to do the opposite.

“Go take a seat in my truck. I’ll give Dillon a call. See if he can come out and get you.”

“Thanks,” she said with a sweet smile that did stupid things to his heart rate. “I really appreciate it.”

He helped her into his truck and broke open a one-use ice pack from the first aid kit he kept under the seat.

“Put this on your face,” he directed, lifting the pack to her temple. “It’ll help with the bump.”

Their fingers touched as she took the ice pack from him and the craziest urge to press his lips to her forehead almost overtook him. Oh yeah, she was trouble all right. And, he had the distinct impression that once he’d seen the back of her today that that wouldn’t be the end of it.

W
illow watched as
the tow truck driver, who’d introduced himself as Dillon Tanner, hooked up poor old Daisy and dragged her, metal protesting loudly, from the ditch. Once the bus was hitched up behind the truck, Dillon dusted off his hands and walked over to where she waited with the tall, dark cowboy whose facial features seemed to be set in a permanent glower of discontent.

“We’re all set,” Dillon said to Willow. “Hop on up in the truck.”

Willow turned to her taciturn rescuer and handed him back the ice pack. “Thanks for all your help. I appreciate it. I didn’t get your name before.”

“Lange. Booth Lange.”

“I’m Willow Phillips. Well, thanks again. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“I doubt it,” he replied, earning a surprised glance from Dillon.

The two men clasped hands briefly, then Booth returned to his truck and drove away without so much as a wave.

“Talkative, isn’t he?” she commented.

Dillon chuckled. “He’s all right once you get to know him.”

Willow gave a snort of laughter. “I doubt that’s going to happen any time soon.”

The journey into Marietta was a quick one and she hopped out of Dillon’s truck when he pulled into a yard behind his garage.

“I’ll do an assessment for you tomorrow so you can get in touch with your insurance company. You are insured, aren’t you?”

Willow shifted uncomfortably. She knew it was a legal requirement here in the U.S., but insurance had been the last thing on her mind when she and Daisy had made their acquaintance.

“Do you think it’s going to be expensive?” she asked, avoiding his question.

“Hard to tell in this light,” he answered, scratching his head. “Tell you what. Give me your number and I’ll call you once I’ve worked up an estimate.”

“Oh, I’ll just drop by in the morning,” Willow answered. She looked around the yard, in particular at the high chain-link fencing that surrounded it and the gate currently hanging open. “I guess you’ll want to lock up now?”

“Yeah, you want to grab your things from the bus? It’ll be safe enough here overnight.”

It might be, Willow thought, but what Dillon didn’t realize was it was her bed for the night as well. She’d have to find some way back in here once he’d gone. Or somewhere to hide until he left.

“Sure, thanks. I’ll just get my pack.”

She made her way to Daisy, opened the side door and climbed inside for her pack. She cast a backward glance at Dillon, who was entering the rear of his workshop. Maybe she could just stay here in Daisy and he’d be none the wiser. She could just fake leaving the yard.

“’Bye, see you tomorrow!” she yelled in the direction of the workshop and heard Dillon’s muffled acknowledgement in return.

Satisfied he’d think she had gone, she clambered in, wincing again as her aching muscles made their presence felt, and carefully closed Daisy’s door behind her. It didn’t close quite all the way, but she didn’t want to try slamming it in case it alerted the friendly garage owner to the fact she hadn’t left. She was quite sure that she wouldn’t be allowed to stay here on his premises, even if she was in the yard. The lumpy mattress that had served as her bed for the past two nights beckoned and Willow eased her bruised body down, hoping Dillon wouldn’t check the vehicle before he left.

It wasn’t long before she heard his truck start up and move a short distance, soon followed by the clang of the gates being secured. She waited a while then lifted her head. He was well and truly gone. Willow’s stomach growled, reminding her it had been several hours since her last meal. Well, she’d gone hungry before, she could do it again. She had her water bottle and a roof over her head and that was all she needed for now. Tomorrow would bring a new beginning.

Exhausted by the day’s events, Willow soon drifted off to sleep, only to be woken with a start by a ruckus outside a few hours later. Jeers and catcalls, followed by the sounds of a fight, filled the night air. She burrowed more closely under the scratchy blanket she’d picked up in a surplus store before leaving L.A. At least she had Dillon’s fence around her to keep her safe. Soon, a lone siren wailed up the street and she could hear the sounds of people dispersing. By the time it was silent outside, well, silent except for the insistent dull beat of the music playing in the bar next door, Willow was even more aware of her aches and pains and her head had begun to throb.

What she wouldn’t give for a feather pillow and a decent bed. Maybe when she found her father everything else would fall into place. She fervently hoped so, and if there’d been a star visible through Daisy’s grimy windows she’d have been wishing on it as hard as she could.

Dawn broke with an itch that Willow couldn’t ignore. She scratched at her bare arm and opened her eyes. A mosquito the size of a small bird, to her eyes anyway, buzzed crazily around in the close confines of the VW, obviously having found its way in through the gap in the door. She swatted at it ineffectually before another, more pressing, discomfort made its presence felt. She needed a bathroom, and soon.

She looked around outside. After her initial short sleep of pure exhaustion, the bar next door had kept her awake into the small hours and left her with her eyes feeling as if the dust of a thousand sandstorms had settled in them. She carefully stretched and reached for her one pair of colorfully patched jeans and a tie-dyed T-shirt, grimacing a little in pain as she stripped off and redressed.

Willow looked around outside and grabbed her bag, a hand-embroidered canvas pack that had traveled with her mother for twenty-seven years, and shoved some yarn samples and a few pairs of her hand-knitted socks inside it. She carefully opened the door and slid from Daisy. Every muscle in her body protested. She groaned as she started to walk toward the gate, her eyes on the lookout for a way out that didn’t entail scaling the very high fence. It was soon apparent there was nothing for it but to do exactly that. Either that or wait for Dillon to arrive to open his workshop and face his questions as to why she was on the inside of his property instead of the outside where she was supposed to be.

Climbing the chain-link fence tested the very boundaries of her sore body and overfull bladder. The bruises she’d earned in yesterday’s crash throbbed with a dull ache and her muscles protested every stretch and pull as she levered herself over the steel framework. She was on the point of weeping by the time she lowered her feet to the sidewalk and took her bearings. Tanner’s Garage was situated on the corner of Fifth and Front Avenue. Surely there had to be somewhere open early with a restroom she could use.