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

  She frowned. “Me?”

  Quint leaned against the counter, tried to relieve some of the pain in his knee. “You have medical knowledge.”

  “I don’t even have my license yet.” She narrowed her eyes. “And even if I did I am a vet tech. Not for humans.”

  “Please.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure they couldn’t hear him. “Something’s going on with them.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know.” He was probably making too much out of a few off-hand comments, but there was something that tugged at his gut and he couldn’t shake the feeling. “Just do me a favor. Please.”

  She huffed. “Fine. But you have to babysit for me.”

  “Deal.”

  She held up two fingers. “Twice.”

  “Whatever.” Quint smiled down at her.

  “Let me have a look at your knee first.”

  “I told you, it’s fine.” It hurt like a sonofabitch, but he’d wrenched it many times before and other than taking it easy for a few days and icing it down, there wasn’t much to do. “Heidi’s nose has been bleeding on and off. I don’t think it’s broken but I know her mom would feel better if they knew for sure.”

  While Zan looked after the teen, Quint sat near Gillian on the large leather sofa. “I called Manny, the mechanic. He should be out to get your car by the end of the day.”

  “That long?”

  “He’s at least thirty miles away on a job and has two other folks he has to tow.”

  Gillian glanced at her watch. “May I use your phone?”

  “Sure.” Quint braced his hand to push up and go grab the cordless.

  “Sit. Tell me where it is and I’ll get it.”

  “Kitchen counter.”

  Gillian took a deep breath and dialed the number for her new boss in Billings. When the woman picked up after the third ring, Gillian’s nerves hummed as she said, “Mrs. Taylor, hi. It’s Gillian Harwood.”

  “How was your trip?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. We’ve had a little setback. I’m in—” She leaned around the kitchen wall. “Where are we again?”

  Quint stopped rubbing his knee and glanced up at her. “Paintbrush.”

  “Paintbrush, Wyoming.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Well, not exactly. I’m going to need to get some work done on my car.” She’d been counting on this job. Hoping to set down roots for her and Heidi as far away from anyone who knew them as she could.

  “How soon will you get here?”

  She closed her eyes. “A day or two tops,” she said and all but held her breath.

  “See you then.”

  Gillian released the pent-up breath and replaced the phone to its handset. She’d taken a big chance moving so far away from what they knew for a tentative job offer, but she hadn’t had much choice. If Rick Damon caught up to them… She shuddered to think what would happen.

  “Excuse me.”

  Gillian jumped. “Yes?”

  “I’m Zan. I don’t think we were properly introduced. Quint’s manners have never quite developed.” A genuine smile spread across her face. “Do you mind if I have a look at that bump?”

  There was something familiar about the woman but Gillian couldn’t put her finger on it. She was a few inches taller than Gillian and had freckles everywhere. She couldn’t have met her. She and Heidi lived a pretty sheltered life and had never really left Alabama until they had to pick up and move away. Still there was something familiar…

  “I don’t bite, I swear.” She smiled.

  Gillian nodded and relaxed—if only marginally. “Is Heidi okay?”

  “Yes. I think the bleeding has stopped. It’s not broken. She’ll have a nasty bruise for a day or two.”

  “Thank you for coming out here.”

  “Just wait until you get my bill.”

  The blood drained from Gillian’s face.

  “Oh, hon. I’m just kidding.” Zan patted Gillian’s arm. She took a hold of Gillian's chin and turned her head this way and that. She looked into her eyes; the scrutiny would have made Gillian squirm if she hadn’t had such a firm grip. “No broken skin. Some ice should make it go down pretty well. Pull your bangs forward and no one will even notice. If you start getting headaches or anything, have…” she paused, “…have Quint call Dr. Hambert again for you.” She winked at Gillian. “Quint, I gotta run. Doc’s waiting for me back at the Cates’ ranch.”

  Quint hollered his goodbyes from the living room.

  “Nice to meet ya.” Zan paused for a second as if she might have something else to say but instead turned and headed out of the small house.

  In the living room, Heidi had her bruised-but-not-broken nose buried deep in her book. “You doing okay, hon?”

  Heidi waved absently at Gillian. Quint was rubbing his knee again.

  “Do you mind?”

  He frowned. “Do I mind what?”

  “If I have a look at your knee.”

  “I don’t…”

  “I’m a masseuse. I do, did, therapeutic massages.” Gillian pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and moved closer to the club chair he sat in. “How did you hurt it? Originally, I mean.”

  “Old injury. Baseball. Catcher.”

  “I’ve worked on sports injuries before.” Gillian squatted in front of Quint. “I promise it won’t hurt.”

  “I guess.” He shifted in his seat, stretched his leg out fully in front of him.

  “Hon, can you hand me my bag?” Heidi shoved the large bag at her mother. “Roll up your jeans, please.”

  Quint toed off his boot and shoved the denim up over his knee.

  “Sandalwood or musk?”

  Quint swallowed hard. “Beg pardon?”

  “I have sandalwood- or musk-scented oil.”

  “Aw, hell, Maybe not.” Quint pulled at his jeans. It was almost too much to bear having her squat in front of him.

  “Mom’s pretty good. You should let her try.” The teen barely looked up from her book.

  “Fine.” Quint gave in. Gillian snagged the closest bottle and poured some oil in her hand. She worked it around for a minute or so. He flinched when she set her small hands on his knee. His gut shouldn’t tumble with her barest touch; she’d almost mowed him down not an hour earlier.

  Despite being a teeny-tiny thing, her strong hands fit around his knee. It did hurt a little but it lessened by degrees as she worked. He couldn’t think of anything but the pain or lack thereof because if he thought of her porcelain skin and big blue eyes he’d be lost. And God forbid he acknowledged how much he wanted to bury his hands in her hair and draw her to him, he might embarrass the pair of them.

  After ten minutes or so she stopped. Quint opened his eyes—he didn’t even remember shutting them. “Wow.” He rotated his leg around, worked his knee. “Pain’s gone.”

  “Told ya,” Heidi said around a huge wad of gum in her mouth.

  Quint started to ask where she’d learned to be a masseuse, but a knock sounded at the front door. He shoved down his jeans leg—and all the thoughts swirling through his sex-deprived brain—and answered the door. “Hey, Manny. You’re early.” Quint wasn’t sure why disappointment spread through his gut.

  “Where’s the car at?” Manny pushed a greasy ball cap back on his head.

  “Out at the end of Old Matherly Road.” Quint ushered the man inside. “Can I get ya a drink?”

  “Naw. Ran by the diner on my way here.” Manny eyed Quint’s lone boot over by the sofa then looked down at his sock covered foot.

  “She ran up over a fence post.” Quint snagged his boot and stuffed his foot back into the worn, leather roper. “Airbags deployed. Don’t think it was leaking any fluids when we left it.”

  “Will you be able to get to it today?’ Gillian came up behind the two men.

  “What is the year and make of the vehicle?”

  Gillian rattled off the details
.

  Manny glanced at his watch. “I can start work on it tonight, but it’ll take a couple of days to get airbags for it. I don’t keep those in stock. Are you up for a visit or are you passing through town?”

  She blanched at the question—something was definitely going on with the Harwoods.

  “I’m only asking ’cause we don’t have rental cars here.” Manny shifted and adjusted his coveralls over his paunch. “But I can get someone to run you over to Sheridan and get something.”

  She nodded. “Oh. We’re passing through.” She darted her gaze to her daughter and back, then gnawed on her lower lip. “Um, could we ride into town with you? We need to find a place to stay until the car is ready.”

  Quint stifled the urge to invite them to stay with him. He didn’t know a thing about either of the two women. The last thing he needed was to get in the middle of whatever issues they had going on. “I’ll head out there with you and get that fence fixed up.”

  “For two nights?” The woman wrote down something in a ledger.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Gillian was pleased there wasn’t a computerized system. She hadn’t really thought that far ahead when Manny had dropped them off. She’d been ever so glad to get as far away from Quint Walters as possible. The tall, handsome man stirred up emotions she’d thought she capped a long time ago.

  Why she’d offered to work on his knee… Touching the man was just about the stupidest thing when she already had all the flutterings running though her nerves. She’d done countless massages in the four years since she’d opened her small practice. Never once had one fantasy after another bombarded her. Never once had anything past a professional level accompanied the automatic ministrations. But the moment her hands covered his knee…

  “Mom.” Heidi nudged her.

  The clerk must have spoken to her, judging by the look on her face. She named off a fee that wouldn’t put too much of a dent in Gillian’s cash on their short stay. Not that it could be helped. She didn’t even want to think about the cost of the car repairs. Hopefully, it wouldn’t deplete their cash completely before she could get to Billings, Montana and start her new job.

  “Did I see Manny dropping you off?”

  “Yes.” Gillian nodded.

  “Car trouble?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where about?”

  Gillian frowned. She wasn’t used to having to give a run-down of the what’s-what in her life, but from her mother’s stories of growing up in a small town outside of Mobile, she knew small town culture was different. “The edge of the Bowmans’ Skipping Rocks Ranch I think they said.” She’d largely tried to ignore the men talking as they hooked her car up to the back of the tow truck.

  “They?”

  “Manny and Quint Walters.”

  The woman’s faced morphed. Her dark brown eyes softened and a smiled curved her unpainted lips.

  “I’m hungry.” Heidi, the sullen teen, had returned.

  They had stopped for a quick snack late in the morning, but she’d expected to be in Montana by lunch and hadn’t grabbed anything extra. Halfway through the afternoon and they hadn’t eaten for hours.

  “There’s a diner just up the way. Best pot roast this side of the Big Horn Mountains.” The hotel manager reached over the counter and proffered a room key on a large plastic tag. “Name’s Ruby. If you need anything, just let me know.”

  “Thanks.” Gillian took the key—they didn’t even have magnetic swipe cards, but an actual old-fashioned key—and smiled. She snagged Heidi’s elbow and dragged the teen behind her out the door. “Let’s get settled in our room and we’ll go get something to eat.”

  At the room the pair stood at the threshold. Beige walls with a lone mirror over the small dresser accompanied a pair of beige-topped double beds. “Homey.”

  “Homely.” Heidi shuddered. “Norman Bates is prolly hiding in the walls.” She walked over to the bed and set her stuffed bear up against the pillows. It was a raggedy toy, but something she’d had since she was tiny child. When they’d run, it was the only keepsake to remind her of home.

  “It’s temporary.” As it had been for the last year plus months. Gillian’s heart gave a little twinge. “But we can make the best of it.” Once their bags were stowed, Gillian turned to her daughter. “Let’s eat.”

  The small main street in the middle of Paintbrush, Wyoming could have been the set for any old west movie. The shiny new pickup trucks were the only thing that put it in the twenty-first century rather than back in the days of outlaws and saloon gals. When she pushed through the doors into the diner she found Zan at the counter holding a little girl with another on the stool beside her.

  “Oh, hi.” She shifted the toddler in her arms and swiveled to face the two new patrons. The little girl was the spitting image of Quint. Gillian’s heart did a stutter step.

  The little girl’s face lit up. “Daddy.”

  Gillian expected to find Quint behind her. Instead a brown-eyed cowboy walked over and took the girl in his arms. “How’s my little sprite doing?”

  A wave of relief shouldn’t have washed through her, but still the tightening in her chest loosened and she took a deep breath. “Zan, right?”

  “Yep. This is my husband, Jacob Bowman.”

  Gillian’s eyebrows raised. “Of the Skipping Rocks Ranch?”

  A slight blush tinted his cheeks. “Yes, ma’am.” He leaned over and ruffled the hair of the other little girl too intent on a bowl of chocolate ice cream to look up longer than to smile.

  “Mom, food.” Heidi at least whispered. She kept her hand over her nose, hiding the largest part of the bruise.

  Gillian looked past the Bowman’s to the waitress. “Can we sit wherever?”

  The dark-headed waitress flashed a quick smile. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right with you.”

  Gillian bid the Bowmans good evening. She and Heidi sat in a booth in the far corner, away from the couple and hopefully any further conversation. No talking meant no questions.

  A young man came from the back and bussed the table next to them. The boy looked to be around sixteen or seventeen. Gillian wanted to laugh as Heidi sat a little straighter and toyed with the end of her ponytail—still covering her nose. When the waitress came over to the table she said something to him. He rolled his eyes and groaned something indistinguishable. Gillian had experienced the same thing many, many times before. When the waitress sidled up to their table she asked, “Your son?”

  The woman nodded and smiled. “Ryder. Every inch a sixteen-year-old. How could you tell?”

  “I get the same looks from my daughter.” She motioned to Heidi. And in doing so proved her point when the teen rolled her blue eyes and slumped low on the vinyl seat.

  “You’re her momma? Why, you two could be sisters.”

  Gillian’s smile fell. So many times she’d get that comment. Yes, she was fourteen when Heidi was born, but she didn’t want to explain details that were better left alone. She’d lied about her age for so many years, it rolled off her tongue without any hesitation or defensiveness. “I’m older than I look.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to overstep.” The waitress sighed and leaned a hip against the table next to them. “My daddy’s is always saying, ‘Missy Lunsford, you need to quit chatting up every person that crosses your path. One of these days you’re gonna run outta words to say.’” She laughed. “I can’t see that happening any time soon. Anyhoo. What’ll it be?”

  Gillian relaxed with Missy’s easy nature. Gillian and her daughter ordered. Neither spoke as they waited for their food, both lost in their own thoughts, but both looked up when a group of men came in the front door and settled at the counter next to Zan and her family.

  “Hey, you’re not limping.” Zan hugged Quint.

  Despite the woman’s husband clapping the man on the back—clearly having no issues with the Quint—a fierce pang of jealously shot through Gillian.

  Then she heard her name.

  “…mig
ht have wrecked the fence and tore up her car but she was pretty good with her hands.”

  Heat crawled across her cheeks and she mimicked Heidi’s sunken posture in the booth. Zan whispered in his ear and his gaze whipped around and zeroed in on her. Quint gave her a real quick head nod and turned back to the counter. He and the group quieted down and as best as Gillian could tell paid not one whit of attention back to them.

  The food came and she and her daughter ate in silence. She’d grown used to the ways of a sixteen-year-old. She didn’t like it, but had learned not to take it all personally anymore. She thought back to her high school. How vastly different her world and Heidi’s were.

  Missy came by a couple of times before finally bringing a check. “Is there anything else I can get y’all?”

  “No, thank you. This was all wonderful.” She hadn’t tasted good old-fashioned cooking since her own mother died twelve years before. She wasn’t a horrible cook, but her culinary skills couldn’t compare to the food Heidi had all but devoured.

  The woman hovered by the table longer than necessary. “Yes?” Gillian tried not to squirm in her seat.

  Missy eyed her for a long minute then grabbed a chair from the table next to them and sat at the end of the booth. Before she could speak, Heidi rose. “I’m gonna go out front, ’kay?”

  “Just stay close.”

  The teen rolled her eyes but nodded and headed to the front door. She gave a quick, shy wave to Quint and pushed through the double glass doors.

  “This is a little embarrassing. I couldn’t help but overhear Quint telling his aunt about your fixing up his knee earlier today.”

  “Excuse me? His aunt?” Gillian glanced up at the people clustered around the counter. As far as she could tell, Zan was still the only woman with all the men.

  “Zan.” Missy laughed. “Yeah, threw us all at first she being only a few years older than him. But yeah, Zan is Quint’s aunt.”

  The resemblance finally fell into place. They both had the same freckled complexion despite the different hair color. Also, something about the way Quint and his aunt carried themselves. She should have caught it back at his house. But she’d been a little jealous. Not that she had any reason.