Hannah settled Clementine into the back seat of the truck while Tripp placed her belongings in the flatbed.
“Well, that was fun,” Hannah said as she stepped up on the running board and into the pickup.
Tripp fastened his seat belt and turned to her. “Hannah, I don’t think you understand the implications of what just happened.”
Hannah stared at him like he was a two-headed cow. “Excuse me?” She glanced in the back seat and lowered her voice. “I was there. I understand completely. And it hasn’t escaped me that I was ripped off a thousand dollars by a con man and arrested for my troubles.”
“You weren’t arrested.” Tripp shook his head. “Be grateful for that. Employees have been terminated at Big Heart Ranch for less.”
“Are you telling me I’m going to be fired?”
“It’s possible. If anyone gets wind of this.”
“I happen to have an impeccable job record up to now.” Panic flashed through her eyes. “And he didn’t officially arrest me.”
“That’s because he thinks you and I are...” Tripp swallowed. “He thinks we’re...”
Hannah’s eyes rounded. “You told him I’m your what?”
“I didn’t exactly tell him anything. I just didn’t correct his assumptions.”
Hannah groaned and rubbed her forehead, pushing her hair off her shoulders.
“Look, I can think of a lot worse things than having Chief Daniels assume that—”
“Oh, really?” Hannah asked. “Neither of us can even say the words out loud. That’s how horrified we both are by those assumptions.”
“Horrified is kind of harsh. I’m a little embarrassed.”
“I embarrass you?”
“No. I didn’t say that.”
“Sure you did.” Hannah shook her head. “But it hardly matters. Having people think I’m... That you and I are...” She stumbled over her words. “All I can tell you is that I’m used to people sneering first and asking questions later. Being a single mother seems to be a free-for-all for everyone to voice their opinions and judge me. And they do.”
“I think it’s possible you’re exaggerating. Besides, no one is judging you at Big Heart Ranch.”
“Right. Like you never judged me.”
He opened his mouth and closed it again, not willing to risk a lightning strike for denying her charge.
“You probably ought to know that the chief had been considering calling social services.”
Hannah gasped. “You probably should have told me that right away.” Her dark eyes pleaded with him. “Why would he do that?”
“Just doing his job. I told him it wasn’t necessary, and he agreed when I alluded to...”
“Yes. I get it.”
“Chances are that’s the end of the whole thing,” Tripp said, hoping he sounded upbeat.
“That’s not how it works in my world,” Hannah muttered.
They drove in silence for several miles before Tripp checked his rearview mirror. Clementine had fallen asleep. The little girl’s pumpkin-colored tresses were a wild and frizzy disarray from the weather. His heart melted.
He had never considered the possibility of having a family, but today, something changed and he realized that having the chief think he and Hannah were... Well, it wasn’t the end of the world.
“Where were you going when the Honda broke down?” he asked.
“I was going to fill up with gas and head back to Dripping Falls. They’re holding my job for me.”
“Why?”
“You know why. You knew before I went to see Lucy, didn’t you?”
“So when the going gets tough, Hannah Vincent packs her bags,” Tripp said.
“That is not true. I move to keep Clementine safe.”
“She’s safe here.”
“Tripp, I’ve made a fool of myself.”
“Only a handful of people know why you came to Big Heart Ranch, and they’re the people who care about you. Truth is, everyone likes you and Clementine.”
“I don’t know about that,” she murmured.
“I do.”
Tripp turned to Hannah and saw the battle going on in her head reflected on her face.
“So your plan is to pluck Clementine from her friends at Big Heart and take her back to Mudville without looking back?”
“Dripping Falls.”
“Whatever.”
Once again, she massaged her forehead. “I generally have a plan. This time everything caught me by surprise.”
“What about Calamity Jane? You’re on the challenge agreement as assistant trainer.”
She released a bitter laugh. “Assistant trainer of a horse I don’t get to train.”
“Be that as it may, you agreed.”
Hannah was silent.
“I don’t want to pull out the paperwork, but you and I had an agreement. I can’t train Jane without your help, and you have a legal responsibility to help me.”
“I never signed any legal documents.”
“We shook on it. A gentleman’s good faith agreement. That’s legal around these parts. They used to hang a man for breaking an agreement.”
“Why am I not surprised? This is the most convoluted state I have ever stepped foot in.”
He continued, ignoring her rant. The more he talked, the more important keeping Hannah at Big Heart Ranch seemed and he wasn’t quite sure why.
“Lucy has an ugly mustard-colored Honda she holds on to for sentiment. I’ll have Dutch take it in for an oil change and you can drive it.”
Hannah shot up in the seat, outrage splashed all over her face. “No. Absolutely not.” When Clementine stirred in the back seat, she lowered her voice again. “I don’t need handouts or charity. I can do it myself or I can do without.”
Tripp shrugged. “Life is all about handouts. One way or another, you can’t always do it all yourself.”
“Sure, I can.”
“You’re missing the point. The hard part is learning to play on the team. Clementine deserves that.”
“You do it all yourself. You don’t need anyone.” She slid him a pointed glance. “I’d hardly call Tripp Walker a team player.”
He grimaced at her words. Trust Hannah to find the buttons to push. “Maybe we both need a lesson in team sports.”
“Maybe.”
Hannah turned to the window. Her chocolate-brown hair was all wavy and full from the rain and provided a curtain between them, hiding her face and her emotions.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I was so sure that Jake Maxwell...” She took a deep breath. “I’m weary. It’s battle after battle and I’m always taking two steps forward and one step back. I’m just tired, Tripp.”
Tripp longed to pull the car over, take her in his arms and tell her it would be all right. But Hannah would be the first to tell him that all right was a fairy tale, and he hadn’t believed in fairy tales in a long time, either.
“I told you. You don’t have to do it all alone. Let your friends help you.”
“I’m not used to having friends.”
“Yeah. I get that. But you’ve been here six weeks now. It’s time you accept the fact that we like having you around.”
She turned in her seat and searched his face. “Are we friends?” The words were barely a whisper.
“Yeah, we are.”
As Tripp stared into her sad eyes, he realized he didn’t want Hannah and Clementine to leave. He swallowed hard at the revelation, shoving it to the back of his mind to examine at another time.
Tripp dropped Hannah and Clementine off at the bunkhouse and brought her box of stuff from the Honda inside for her.
When he turned to leave, Clementine put her hand in his and tugged. “Mr. Tripp, how will we get to the parade next week if our car is gone?”
He knelt down next to her and gently tugged an orange corkscrew curl. “No worries, little pumpkin. I’m taking you.”
Clementine threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Tripp, for saving us.”
Tripp didn’t dare look up and meet Hannah’s gaze. He knew what she thought about Clementine’s admission. Instead, he stepped out the back door and pulled out his phone as he headed back to the pickup.
“Slats, this is Tripp Walker. I want to know what you found on Hannah Vincent.”
“That’s going to cost.”
Tripp grit his teeth. He knew what was coming. “I already paid you.”
“That was weeks ago. The price of information is fluid, and it so happens that it just went up.” The cowboy chuckled. “I’ll need twice what you paid me.”
“Fine. I’ll look for you at the Timber Rodeo.”
“Sorry, I’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’ll let you know when I’m back in town.”
Tripp disconnected the call. Slats was going to gouge him good. Didn’t matter. He needed to know if there were any more surprises before Hannah got herself into any more trouble.
Chapter Eight
“No, thank you.” Hannah opened a kitchen drawer and searched through the papers. She pulled out the drawer itself, just in case something had fallen behind. “I think the Spring Social is a fine idea. You two go and have fun. I’m not interested.”
“Now, Hannah, don’t you want to hear me play the fiddle?” Dutch asked.
“Hmm?” She turned and met Dutch’s gaze. The bowlegged wrangler was all spruced up in a starched white Western shirt with pearl buttons. He wore a silver trophy buckle with his black Levi’s.
Hannah smiled and reached out to straighten his black-and-turquoise bolo necktie. “You look so handsome.”
The cowboy blushed bright crimson and shook his head. “There’s no talking sense to her. I’m gonna wait in the truck.”
Hannah glanced around the room and then stepped to the other side of the kitchen to inspect the small stack of cookbooks that she had brought along from Missouri. She carefully flipped through the pages of each book.
“Emma and Lucy have a babysitter who is happy to watch Clementine, too,” Rue said. “You have plenty of time to get ready. It doesn’t start until dusk. Dutch and I are going early so I can help him set up. His ribs are still sore.”
“Poor Dutch.” Hannah raised her head. Rue also wore a white Western shirt, hers paired with a long denim skirt and square-toed brown boots with a wing design. Silver and turquoise bangle bracelets adorned her wrists.
“Rue, you look amazing as well. Love those boots. What do you call them?”
“Ariat. They’re about a couple hundred years old, like me. What about the parade tomorrow?” Rue asked, undeterred by the flattery.
“Clementine has already wheedled Tripp into taking us to the parade. We’ll be there.” Whether I like it or not, she mentally added.
“I hate leaving you all alone.”
“I’m not alone. My daughter is here.”
“That little girl fell asleep in the middle of dinner,” Rue said. “Why, her face was nearly in the spaghetti.” The older woman’s face softened and she offered a musing smile, her affection for the five-year-old obvious.
“Kindergarten is tough work,” Hannah said with a laugh. She placed her hand on Rue’s arm. “Please, stop worrying about me. I’d be absolutely miserable at a dance. I’ve never been one for that sort of thing.”
Hannah had her fill of parties growing up. Debutante balls, soirees, and receptions were the norm at her grandmother’s sprawling estate. Unlike her granddaughter, the CEO of Bryant Oil thrived on the constant social events.
She smiled as she glanced down at her T-shirt, cutoffs and flip-flops. It had been a long time since she’d worn a designer dress or had her hair and nails done and she didn’t miss any of that world.
A knock at the back door had both Rue and Hannah turning.
Tripp Walker stood on the porch with his hat in his hand.
“Come on in, Tripp,” Rue said.
The cowboy stepped inside, wearing his usual work uniform of faded Levi’s and a plaid Western shirt rolled up to the elbows.
“Tripp isn’t going to the social, either.” Hannah stated the obvious. She left off the fact that she was somewhat relieved to know that he wasn’t going to be dancing with all of Timber’s beautiful buckle bunnies and cowgirls.
“Tripp not going to the social is a given,” Rue said.
“Excuse me?” The cowboy stood in the doorway, eyes wide. “Am I in some kind of trouble?”
“Not yet,” Rue said. She smiled up at him. “I had a nice chat with Chief Daniels when I was in town today. He told me the oddest thing. That you two are—”
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Hannah interrupted with an adamant shake of her head.
Tripp did a double take from Hannah to Rue as panic galloped across his face. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you, Rue?” he asked. “Like Dutch?”
“No, but the chief is probably going to take care of that.”
“Perfect,” Tripp muttered.
Rue glanced at her watch. “I’ll see you two later.” She offered a two-finger salute as she slipped past Tripp and out the door.
“Don’t stay out too late,” Hannah called after the older woman.
“Very funny, dear.”
“You think she’s serious?” Tripp asked as he stepped farther into the kitchen.
“About Chief Daniels? I don’t know the man. You tell me.”
“This is a small town, Hannah. Gossip spreads like butter on warm biscuits.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes all you can do is nod and smile and let the gossip roll on past.”
“That’s your plan?”
“No more.” She held up a hand. “I’m done with crisis intervention for a while. Could we postpone any further meltdowns until after the holiday?”
“Fine by me, so long as the grapevine doesn’t have us married by Monday.”
Hannah laughed. “If we are, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
“You aren’t taking this very seriously,” he said.
“I do take this seriously, Tripp. And I haven’t thanked you for coming down to the police station. Only a real friend would do that.” She looked up at him. “You were willing to let people think that you and I...you know...to protect Clementine. Don’t think I don’t appreciate that. I do.”
He nodded.
Silence filled the space between them. “May I offer you a soda?” Hannah asked, hoping to move past the awkward moment.
“Well, sure. Why not? What do you have?” Tripp asked.
“Root beer and root beer. It’s my favorite.”
“I’ll have a root beer, please.”
“Good choice.” Hannah opened the refrigerator and grabbed two glass-bottled longnecks, doing her best not to chuckle. As she closed the door, Trent Blaylock and Josee Queen’s save-the-date card slid down the refrigerator to the floor.
Tripp and Hannah reached for the paper at the same time.
“I got it,” Tripp said as their fingers touched. He handed her the card without meeting her eyes.
“Thank you.” She offered him the bottle and stepped back.
Tripp twisted off the cap and took a long pull. Hannah stared, fascinated. Something about Tripp always seemed to fascinate her.
She needed to learn to be un-fascinated ASAP because Tripp Walker was a dead end. He’d made it clear how he felt about her on too many occasions, despite their fake relationship.
When Hannah struggled with the cap on her own root beer, Tripp slipped the bottle from her fingers and twisted off the cap.
“Thank you,” she murmured, holding the cold bottle to her heated face.
“Small talk with strangers is not my idea of fun,” she said.
“Mine, either.”
He rubbed his calloused thumb over the top of the bottle and met her gaze. “Mind if I ask you something?”
“I’m an open book.”
“Yeah. Nice try, but I do have a question.”
Hannah offered him a long, tortured sigh. “Please, go ahead.”
“Why did Trent Blaylock send you flowers?”
“That was weeks ago.” She took a sip of the soda and relished the cool liquid.
“Yep. Weeks ago.”
“I gave him relationship advice, and he was grateful. He and Josee are now engaged.”
Tripp frowned. Clearly, that was not the answer he expected.
“I never asked why you stopped by,” Hannah said.
“I came to return something.” He pulled a small, rolled-up spiral-bound notebook out of his back pocket.
Hannah inhaled sharply and her face lit up. “My recipe book! I’ve been looking for it all week.” She put her root beer on the table and reached for the notebook. “Thank you so much. Where did you find it?”
“It was under the front passenger seat. I found it when I cleaned the truck.”
“It must have fallen out of my purse.”
“You’ve got some pretty interesting recipes in there.” He leaned back against the cupboard and crossed his legs, looking as comfortable as can be, and took another swig.
“You looked in my personal notebook,” Hannah said.
“How else would I find the owner?”
Hannah flipped through the pages. “My name isn’t in here.”
“There’s a folded menu from the Dripping Falls Diner at the corner of Central and Fir Streets tucked in the back.”
“Oh.”
“Are those secret recipes?” he asked.
“They’re my best recipes. My famous chili recipe is in there.”
“I missed that.” He reached for the notebook. “Let me see.”
Hannah held it away from him. “No way. I’m entering that in the...” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oops.”
Her Last Chance Cowboy Page 11
