Wrong Turn, Right Cowboy: Paintbrush, Book 2 Read online

  No matter how far you run, the past is never far behind.

  Paintbrush, Book 2

  Gillian Harwood and her daughter are off the grid and on the run. One wrong turn later, they’re lost in a Wyoming backwater—and headed right for a man on horseback. Gillian hits the brakes, but not quick enough.

  The horse is fine. The man? Not so much. Sure, he’s pissed as hell, but Gillian’s faced far worse. She can handle one grumpy cowboy with a bum knee. That is, until she uses her skills as a masseuse to make it all better.

  Quint Walters knows a wounded animal when he sees one. Sexy, secretive Gillian shows all the signs of a grown-up runaway. He should know, he’s spent his life running from his father’s expectations. Her magic touch leaves him wanting more, and as she waits for car repairs, she seems to fit naturally into small-town life, and his heart. Except she resists all his efforts to get at her core.

  One mishap after another makes it seem like Fate is conspiring to throw Gillian in Quint’s path—and into his arms. The heat they generate, though, isn’t enough to drown out the nagging feeling that the past is about to smoke her out of hiding…

  Warning: Sparks that ignite the whole town, dangerous secrets and some much-deserved butt-kicking.

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Wrong Turn, Right Cowboy

  Copyright © 2010 by Denise Belinda McDonald

  ISBN: 978-1-60928-156-4

  Edited by Tera Kleinfelter

  Cover by Natalie Winters

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: August 2010

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Wrong Turn, Right Cowboy

  Denise Belinda McDonald

  Dedication

  For C.C.; still inspiration extraordinaire.

  To: (My BFF) Sandy Behr, for being uber-supportive from day one—love you. My gals: Avery Michaels, Brenda Chitwood and Geri Foster for being the best cheering squad—and always making me laugh. Yellow Rose ’Buds, love y’all bunches. The Faulkners, just because. Amie Stuart, for always challenging me to keep going. Chicas—write on.

  Again to Oscar and Imogene Head who gave me my love for all things horses and cowpokes—miss you both!

  Alan and our wonderful (noisy) boys, thanks for always keeping things chaotic and fun.

  Tera Kleinfelter—super-editor—thanks for all you do! You rock!

  Chapter One

  “Are we there yet, Mom?”

  Gillian Harwood glanced over at her daughter, Heidi, and tried not to lose her temper. The trip from Mobile, Alabama to Billings, Montana was a long, tedious drive. She’d thought Heidi would settle once they crossed the state line, but no, she’d whined every fifteen miles since they left Sheridan, Wyoming, wound tighter and tighter with each mile.

  “Soon, hon.” Gillian bit the corner of her lip to keep from smiling. She didn’t think her teenager would appreciate it.

  “How much longer?” Heidi, sixteen going on twenty-six, had sulked ever since Gillian announced they were moving across country. Now that they were almost there, she all but bounced in her seat she was so restless.

  Gillian flipped down the visor to block the late afternoon sun. “Ten minutes.”

  “You said that already. Twice.” The gum in her mouth smacked like crazy.

  “Then why do you keep asking?” Gillian smiled when Heidi stuck out her tongue. “You’re such a brat.” She chuckled. “Another half-hour or so. I think.” Gillian ran her hand down her daughter’s head. “Then we don’t have to get in the car again for a month. How does that sound?”

  She popped a huge pink bubble. “Super!”

  Gillian pulled onto the dirt farm road. “I think we missed a turn somewhere.” Dust flew up around the Volvo.

  “Mom, maybe you should slow down. There’s so much crap you can’t see far ahead.”

  The road grew bumpier.

  “This sucks. Why’d we have to move to Montana?” The teen crossed her arms over her chest and sunk in her seat.

  “I’m sorry, hon.” Gillian’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as she gave Heidi a quick look. “You know I didn’t ask for this.”

  Heidi’s eyes grew huge and round. “Look out!” She pointed in front of them.

  Gillian slashed her gaze forward in time to see a man on a horse smack dab in the middle of the road. “Holy…” She slammed on the brakes with both feet and pulled the wheel as far to the left as possible. The car swerved then fishtailed, followed by a resounding thud before it lurched to a stop.

  “Heidi, are you okay?” Gillian asked as her daughter screamed, “You hit him!”

  “Are you hurt? Look at me.” She tried to reach for Heidi but the seatbelt was pulled taut and locked. Pain shot across her forehead, but she was more concerned with her daughter.

  “God, Mom. I think you killed him.” Heidi was fumbling with her seatbelt just as the airbags deployed and smacked them both in the face. “Ow.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Gillian pushed the fabric away from her. It seemed like an eternity, but the bags started to deflate. Heidi was again working to unlatch her seatbelt. “Sit still and look at me.” Gillian managed to snag Heidi’s chin. “Your nose.”

  The teen swiped at her nose and paled at the sight of blood on her sleeve. “Yick.” She swiped once more. “I’m fine. I think you hit the horse. We need to check on him.” Her seatbelt popped free and she wrenched the door open.

  Images of a dead horse and rider flashed before Gillian’s eyes. “Get back here.” She tried to grab her daughter’s arm, but got nothing but the airbag fabric. “Heidi, I don’t want…” She pushed the airbag back as far as possible and wrestled her own seatbelt off. She hustled out of the car but stopped short when she saw the man half under her car.

  His strawberry blond head turned toward her. The man all but growled at Gillian, “Grab her.” His gray eyes flared.

  “Who? Heidi? She’s okay. Are you hurt?” She drew closer. “This is not happening.” One of his legs was under the front end of her car. “Ohmygawd, I’m so sorry.”

  He wrestled with his leg, but stayed pinned. “Grab her, dammit.”

  Gillian jumped. “Heidi’s fine.” Why is he worried about my daughter?

  “My horse,” he said through clenched teeth. “She’s spooked. Don’t let her get away.”

  Gillian glanced over her shoulder. A huge, brown horse with flared nostrils pawed at the ground and stared back at her. “Let me help you up and you get her.” She grabbed at his arm and tugged but he didn’t budge.

  He slanted his head and let out an exasperated breath. “I’m stuck under the car.”

  Blood rushed to Gillian’s ears and a moan escaped.

  He could sue for this. There’d be a court case. A searchable database. The world tilted. Spots danced before her eyes. They’d have to change their names to stay off the radar for good this time. She took a couple of deep, calming breaths.


  “I’m fine, just stuck. But, please, grab the horse before you spook her anymore.”

  The pounding in her chest eased a little. “He’s fine,” she said to herself.

  “I’ve got her.” Heidi walked up, leading the horse by the reins.

  Gillian’s gaze volleyed between her new hood ornament and the horse. Maybe if she just backed her car up, he’d pop free. And while they were in the car… If she were quick enough, they could leave and no one would know.

  “Can you…” The man grunted, breaking Gillian from her thoughts.

  As bad as life could get, she couldn’t just abandon the man. He might be hurt too bad to make it home on his own. “Can I what?”

  “My boot’s stuck under the tire. Help me pull.”

  Gillian nodded and moved closer. She kicked off her heels—while helpful when standing next to her daughter, not conducive for dislodging a man from the front end of her Volvo. She reached for him, hesitated for a moment then straddled his leg and snagged a handful of denim.

  “On three.” He looked at her; his gray gaze sent a shiver down her spine. “One, two—” he gave her a quick wink, “—three.”

  The pair yanked once then twice. The third time, she thought it would jerk free, but it wasn’t until the fifth pull that his foot came loose. The momentum unwedged the man from the tire and tossed Gillian right up against him, seating her firmly in his lap. “Oh.”

  Dust kicked up all around them.

  The man looped his arms around Gillian to keep her from tumbling them both flat. His short, strawberry blond curls bounced around his head. A small smattering of freckles disappeared as red blotches covered his cheeks.

  His heart beat a heavy tattoo against her palms. She swallowed hard. “Are you okay?”

  The man stared at her for a long moment, his gaze raking across her mouth. “Fine.” He then not-so-gently shoved her up off of him and onto the hard-packed ground. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He righted himself and dusted off his dark jeans.

  “Me?” Gillian tried to stand gracefully, not liking his towering height standing over her—and yelling—but with the awkward position he’d left her in, she couldn’t do much more than tilt her head back and stare up at him. “Do you mind?”

  She scooped up her shoes and held her hand out for help up. His large, calloused hand circled hers. A little zip of electricity shot up to her elbow, almost making her lose her grip. He pulled her to her feet effortlessly—and immediately released her hand.

  He huffed out a breath. “Are you okay?”

  She wiped the dirt from her capris. Without her heels, she barely came up to his shoulder and had to crane her neck to look up at him. “Yes, thank you. I—”

  “You can’t just come barreling down the road like that. You could have killed someone.”

  “I…we’re lost.” She thrust her hands on her hips and stepped closer to him. “How the hell was I supposed to know you’d come out of nowhere?”

  “There’s a road right there.” He pointed off to his left.

  “And I am supposed to know this how?”

  “If you weren’t trying to break the speed of sound.”

  “Please. That car is nearly seventeen years old, has over a hundred and forty thousand miles on it.” She waved her hand at the Volvo. When she glanced over her shoulder at it though, something didn’t look…quite right.

  It sat lopsided with smoke coming out from under the hood. “My car.” She dropped her shoes and hurried over to the silver sedan. “Aw, man.”

  “That’s what happens when you run over a fence post. A post that kept you from running all the way over me, by the way.”

  Heidi cleared her throat. “Uh, Mom?”

  “Mom?” The man frowned and shook his head. “You’re her mother?”

  Quint Walters must have hit his head when she ran him down. The little bit of woman who tried to make roadkill out him barely looked out of high school. Not old enough for a teenage daughter.

  “Sir? What’s her name?” The younger woman held tight to the horse’s reins.

  Quint scrutinized the teen. She was the spitting image of her…mother—all platinum blonde hair and blue eyes—just supersized. While “mom” was all of five feet tall and maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet, the teen stood damn near eye to eye with him and was built like an athlete.

  “Mallow.” He turned his attention to his Appaloosa. “Short for Marshmallow.” He patted the horse’s neck then ran his hands down each of her legs, inspecting her to make sure she hadn’t been injured when she’d bucked him. “Thatta girl.” He glanced at her hooves and checked to make sure she hadn’t thrown a shoe. He released a heavy sigh when he found no problems.

  Quint scanned the road and found his Stetson. He hobbled over to the misshapen felt hat and snapped it up from the road.

  “You’re limping.” The teen followed him. “Mom, he’s limping.”

  He bent the edges of his hat until it somewhat resembled what it should look like. He plopped it on his head and reached for the reins. “Thanks…”

  “Heidi.” The girl smiled a dazzling, toothy grin. “And she’s Gillian. Harwood.”

  Gillian glared at Heidi.

  “What? I know I’m not supposed to ‘divulge’—” she made air quotes with her fingers, “—information willy-nilly, but considering you almost killed him…” She shrugged.

  “I didn’t almost kill him.” Gillian waved at the smoke coming from her car. “Are you hurt badly, Mr…?”

  “Quint. Quint Walters, no mister.” A thousand questions flashed through his mind. Not least of which, why couldn’t they divulge their names? Witness protection, on the run from the police?

  Out on the back end of the Skipping Rocks Ranch wasn’t the place to ask. “I just twisted my bum knee. It’ll be fine after I ice it.”

  Relief washed over her face. “Do you have a cell phone we could borrow?”

  “Won’t matter.”

  “Beg pardon?” Her gaze narrowed on his.

  He shook his head. “No service out here. Up closer to the house or back in town…” He shrugged.

  Gillian ran a hand through her hair. “What now, then? The car obviously isn’t going anywhere.”

  “We walk.” He turned and guided Mallow up the road.

  “Walk?” the two females asked in unison. He glanced back as they both examined the fields around them.

  Quint stopped. “We could wait for someone to drive by.”

  They both sighed and leaned against the car.

  “But this is a private road and I’m the only one who drives it most days.”

  The teen’s head flopped back against the roof of the car with a loud thwack. He wondered if this was normal or if she had a flare for the dramatics. His aunt’s two girls were still just young enough and out of reach of teen-itis so he wasn’t sure. And his sister’s twins were thankfully rough and tumble boys and yet to start walking.

  “We could wait for someone to come looking for me. But it’s my day off and I won’t be missed until sometime tomorrow.”

  “Got it. We walk.” Gillian bent and scooped up her heels from the road. “One second, please?” She hurried to the back of the sedan and fumbled around in the trunk, her lithe body tempting to even the most celibate man—like he’d sworn himself to recently. He couldn’t help but peek when her shirt rode up. Nothing but creamy skin, whereas most city women—and this woman was definitely a city woman—he knew had some form of body art to draw the eye, Gillian needed none but her perfectly rounded derrière. “Hon, will you get my purse?”

  Her words shook him out of his leering and he cleared his throat. He looked to make sure the teen hadn’t caught him ogling her mother, but she was wound up in a pout, hugging a dark brown teddy bear to her chest and didn’t seem to be paying him any attention.

  Heidi’s lip poked out. “Fine.” She slammed the door shut and shoved the bag on her shoulder.

  When Gillian joined them, she’d slippe
d into a pair jogging shoes and had a larger bag looped over her shoulder. She unfolded a map. “Where exactly are we?”

  Quint chuckled before he could help himself. “You won’t find it on there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, darlin’. That’s Montana.”

  “Yeah.” She shifted the bulky bag on her shoulder.

  “You’re on the outskirts of Paintbrush.” Quint looked over his shoulder.

  Gillian scanned the map.

  “Wyoming.”

  Chapter Two

  “I came as fast as I could.” Quint’s Aunt Zan barreled through the back door of his small house. “Tell me what happened.”

  She pulled up short when she saw Gillian and her daughter huddled together on the leather sofa.

  “There was an accident out on Old Matherly Road.” Quint walked out of the kitchen to hand Heidi a rag for her nose and an ice pack for the welt on Gillian’s forehead.

  “Thank you.” Gillian took the bag and settled it on her the purple bump. She volleyed her gaze between Zan and Quint. Her voice faltered slightly as she continued. “I ran my car into a fence.”

  His aunt’s eyebrow raised and she glanced at Quint. “Why are you limping?”

  “Mallow and I were between her and the fence.”

  His aunt gasped. “Is she…”

  “Mallow’s fine. She threw me and got the hell out of the way. They got the brunt of the injuries, Gillian and Heidi.” He motioned at them. “One sec. Zan, can I see you in the kitchen?” He grabbed his aunt’s arm before she could comment and dragged her along with him.

  “Let me have a look at you.” Zan was only a handful of years old than he—they were more like brother and sister than aunt and nephew—but she still fussed over him as much as his own mother.

  “I’m fine. Look, I called Dr. Hambert’s office but he’s out on a call at the Tullman ranch.”

  Zan smiled. “Did Lizzie have her baby?”

  “I don’t know. Can you look them over?” He motioned back to the living room.