Judging by her widened blue eyes, Katy got the hint. “Oh, that’s nice.” She glanced at Olivia. “Well, have fun, Olivia. See ya, Mrs. Brandenberger.” Her blond hair swung saucily as she scurried toward the dance floor.
Shay turned to Olivia. “What was that about?”
She shrugged. “She was making fun of my hair.”
“What’s wrong with your hair? It’s beautiful.” Thick and naturally wavy and shiny to boot.
“Said it looks like a monkey cut it with a hacksaw.”
Shay scowled. She took exception to that, especially since she was the one who trimmed it. Maybe it was time for a real cut, at least one to shape it up. She still hadn’t used her birthday coupon for the Hair Barn.
Shay put her arm around Olivia, guiding her toward the tables. “How about a real haircut?”
“Could I?”
Shay smiled. “Sure. We’ll do it this week, all right?”
She was rewarded with a metal smile. “Thanks, Mom.”
Olivia trotted toward the dance floor where Maddy was dancing freestyle. She remembered Travis’s caution about fixing everything for Olivia, but it was only a haircut. And if she could so easily help her daughter fit in, wouldn’t it be cruel not to?
Shay headed toward the table where Wade and Abigail snuggled together.
She took a seat across from them and stiffened when Travis, out of nowhere, pulled out the chair beside her. He sank into it, his knee brushing hers.
She pulled away and sipped her watery soda, feeling suddenly exhausted. She wanted to run home and burrow under a thick pile of quilts.
“Look at the girls,” Abigail said over the zippy country tune the band had started.
Shay watched her daughter and Maddy working out their own steps to the song, laughing as they botched them. Olivia seemed to have forgotten all about Katy O’Neil.
Maddy had discarded the ponytail for the night and added a few curls. Maybe Olivia would like a style like that. “I like Maddy’s hair.”
“She begged me to curl it.” Abigail leaned forward. “I think there’s a boy.”
Beside her, Wade frowned. “What?”
Abigail smiled at him. “Settle down, Dad. I don’t think it’s fatal.”
Travis was quiet, and Shay wondered what he was thinking, what he was feeling after that dance.
No, she didn’t. She only wanted the night to end. She smothered a yawn.
“You can go on, if you want,” Abigail said. “We can take Olivia home with us. Maddy’s been wanting her to spend the night for weeks.”
This again. Why did it always come up when Travis was there? She felt his eyes on her, felt her shoulders stiffening at the thought of a night alone. Especially after that dance. Apprehension raced through her veins, speeding her heart.
She tried for nonchalance. “Another time.”
Abigail started to respond, then her eyes darted to Travis and back. “You sure?”
She wondered what Abigail had seen on Travis’s face, and before she could stop herself, she looked. Just a glance. But it turned into something longer. His brow was quirked, but his lips formed a hard straight line.
Travis knew she was afraid to be alone with him. His question from weeks ago was written all over his face. Chicken? Only this time he didn’t look amused.
He thought he knew her so well. That he could just read her mind any ol’ time he pleased. That he knew what she wanted before she knew it herself. Well, he didn’t.
She lifted her chin and shot him a look.
Then she faced Abigail. “Actually, tonight would be great. Thanks, guys.”
Abigail looked between the two of them. “Sure, anytime.”
It was settled. Olivia was going to Maddy’s for the night, and she’d proven to Travis that she did trust herself to be alone with him. That resisting his charms was easy as pie. If her limbs suddenly quivered, if her shoulders suddenly felt heavy, it was only fatigue from a hard day’s work.
27
Travis gripped the steering wheel as he guided the truck toward home. Beside him, Shay huddled close to her door. A thick curtain of tension had fallen between them like fog on a cool autumn morning.
Less than an hour ago she’d been soft and malleable in his arms. He’d dared to hope, just for the space of one song, that things might change. That Shay might realize how much he loved her and give him another chance.
But as soon as the song ended, something shifted. She pushed him away, her guard as high as ever.
His fingers ached now, and he loosened his grip on the wheel. She regretted letting Olivia spend the night with Maddy. He knew she would as soon as she gave in, but she’d never admit it. Certainly not to him.
He drew in a deep breath and released it quietly. Help me remember she’s been hurt. That she’s only trying to protect herself. Hadn’t he just been thinking earlier this evening how vulnerable she was? Of course she’d try to protect herself. It was human nature.
But having her in his arms for just those few minutes had been bliss. She smelled of sunshine and citrus. She seemed so willing to give herself to him. And then—boom! She was gone, just like that. If only he could recapture what they’d had on the dance floor.
Or at least dispel this awkward silence. He flipped on the radio, and a slow country tune wafted from the speakers. Even with the music, tension thickened the air in the cab, swelling the molecules until it was hard to breathe. How long could this go on?
He’d been waiting to tell her what he’d done. This wasn’t quite the moment he’d hoped for, but maybe it would soothe her worries, make her drop her guard a hair. He turned into the drive. Pebbles popped under the tires, loud in the quiet confines of the cab.
When he pulled up to the house, he shut off the engine and she moved to get out.
“Wait.” He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I have something for you.”
He felt her eyes on him while he gathered his thoughts. It was too dark to read her eyes.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out a paper, unfolded it, and handed it to her.
“What’s this?”
He turned on the dome light. “Read it.”
Her eyes squinted as she read, her brows going low. Her lips tightened.
What was she thinking? Surely she’d be relieved to have the monkey off her back awhile.
“You paid up my mortgage.”
Her tone was flat, not what he expected. Maybe she was overwhelmed.
“For six months. Through March. Thought it might help you breathe a little easier.”
She aimed a smile in his direction, not quite meeting his eyes. “Thank you. That was very generous.”
Her smile seemed forced. She reached for the handle.
“Wait.”
Shay stopped, her hand still on the lever.
“Why are you sore at me?”
She cleared her throat. “I’m not. How could I be—it was very thoughtful. I’m obliged.”
She was out the door before he could move. Couldn’t get away from him fast enough. He tried not to feel hurt.
He followed, catching up with her on the porch steps. “Can we talk?”
She sighed. “About what?”
“Shay . . .”
“I’m tired.”
So was he. Tired of trying to read her mind and being wrong. Tired of trying to figure out what was going on behind those green eyes.
He shook his head. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Don’t want anything from you.”
Maybe that was the problem. She’d seemed to want something from him during that dance. But now . . .
“You’re like a faucet, Shay. Running hot one minute, cold the next.”
She glared at him. “I am not frigid.”
He frowned, watching her open the door, her jaw set.
“Never said you were.” Shoot, frigid was the last word that came to mind when he thought of Shay. She was full of pas
sion and life. “Is that what your ex-husband said?”
“None of your business.” She entered the house and flipped on a lamp.
“Shay, I’m trying to understand.”
She turned in the kitchen doorway, heaving a deep sigh. “Just leave me alone, Travis.”
He dragged in a breath and blew it out silently. Patience. He needed patience.
He crossed the living room, emptied his pockets. A handful of coins, his wallet and cell, a ponytail holder Olivia had handed him halfway through the night.
He heard the cupboard door fall shut, the faucet running in the kitchen. He heard the abruptness of her movements. Was she cross because he’d paid her mortgage? Maybe so, but she’d been distant before that.
Had she felt forced into the dance by the crowd of neighbors? Her body had seemed willing enough, but maybe he was wrong. Or was it his clumsy comment on the porch?
He didn’t know, but he knew he didn’t want the evening to end on this note. He reached the passage between rooms just as she did.
She stopped short, and the water in her glass sloshed over the rim and onto her shirt.
“Sorry.”
She tried to step around him, but he blocked her way. “Shay, wait.”
She shot him a look.
He was getting that look a lot these days, and he felt his patience draining. “What? What did I do?”
“Move.”
He could be stubborn too. “Not till you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“You could freeze water with those looks.”
She shoved him with her palm. “Stop saying that.”
“Is that what’s bothering you? I didn’t mean it like that. Blast it, Shay, you’re the furthest thing from frigid there ever was. If your ex called you that, he was an idiot.”
“He never called me that—now move.”
Travis sighed hard. “Then what’s the problem?”
“There is no problem, Travis. Not a single one. Everything is just hunky-dory!”
“You’re yelling.”
“Well, you’re blocking my way.”
He moved aside, rubbing his jaw. “Fine, go on.”
“Fine.”
She took her half-empty glass and passed. He ran his hand over his jaw. That woman was gonna be the death of him. He watched her enter her room and give the door a shove. It hit the frame with a slam.
“You can’t hide forever, Shay,” he called.
If she had the last word, he didn’t hear what it was.
28
October morphed into November. The leaves no sooner turned vibrant than the wind tugged them from their branches. Shay watched them fall with equal measures of anticipation and dread. They lay on the cool, spongy ground where they faded to drab earth tones, then curled into brittle skeletons.
November swept across the valley, bringing snowstorms and gusts of frosty wind. Maddy spent the night with Olivia during one such storm, and the next morning Travis helped them build a snowman that didn’t melt away until the middle of the month when an unseasonable warm front moved through the area. Warm, down-filled coats were happily traded for lined jackets for several days before winter claimed the valley once again.
Shay and Travis had reached an unspoken truce. They worked efficiently together, shifting to the chores required by the colder season. He’d made no overtures since the night they’d danced, and he never mentioned the jewelry he’d purchased. But Shay couldn’t help but wonder what he’d bought and for whom.
Working together required closeness, and sometimes his hand or knee would brush hers and she’d retreat. Each night Shay struck another day off her mental calendar.
When they were one month from the end of their arrangement, a nervous anticipation climbed onto her back and rode with her everywhere. She was glad. Relieved. Only one more month, and Travis would be gone from their lives.
But as soon as the thought surfaced, dread and fear sank like heavy weights into her unwanted backpack. He’d leave and then what? They’d never see him again?
Lying in bed at night, listening to the quiet strum of hymns on his guitar, Shay wondered how deep her feelings had grown. She worried about how attached Olivia had become to him.
Travis seemed to sense her trepidation as the month slid by. Either that or he had apprehensions of his own. Tension mounted with each day that melted off the calendar, accumulating like snow on the ground outside.
Shay was checking Olivia’s school papers on Monday evening after supper when she found a crinkled blue paper in the bottom of her daughter’s book bag.
“What’s this?”
Olivia looked up from the game of Scrabble she and Travis were playing at the kitchen table, her new layered haircut framing her face. She tossed her swingy hair over her shoulder. “Oh, that.”
“You have a group project due tomorrow? Is it done?”
“Uh . . . not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, me and Rachel Lewis were supposed to do this science experiment with her horse, but we didn’t have everything we needed, and now . . .” Her shrug was the sentence’s final punctuation mark.
“Says here it’s 40 percent of your science grade. Olivia, you have to do it.” Shay was surprised she hadn’t heard from Rachel’s mom, but maybe she didn’t know about the assignment either.
“Isn’t that Tina’s daughter, from the coffee shop?” Travis asked.
“Yeah.”
“I can run her over there,” Travis said. “Can you finish it in one night?” he asked Olivia.
She shrugged. “Guess so, but we’d be up pretty late.”
Shay got on the phone and made arrangements for Olivia to spend the night with Rachel. She took the list of supplies to the market, then dropped Olivia at her friend’s house.
It was only on the way home that she realized what she’d done. The last thing she wanted a week from the end of their arrangement was to spend a night alone with Travis. Well, she’d just stay busy and out of his way. She’d work on some barbed wire baskets for the tourist shops. She’d have less time to work on them once she was working part-time for Hank. Travis would be gone, along with his financial support, and every basket would help. She’d work late tonight, until Travis was asleep, then she’d creep into the house. Before she knew it, it would be morning.
Upon returning home, she went straight to the barn. The sturdy timber-framed barn held back the bite of the cold wind. Inside, the straw provided insulation from the cold, and the body heat from the horses warmed the space. Even so, her breath fogged in front of her.
She worked with the used barbed wire, winding it into basket shapes, careful of the barbs, even with the work gloves. She made each one a little different. Later she’d lacquer the baskets, tie raffia on the handles, and attach the price tags with her simple logo.
The animals had quieted behind her, giving in to sleep despite the clicking sounds of the wires knocking together and the loud clips when she cut through them. She told herself each basket would be the last one, but then she’d find herself picking up another strand of wire and bending it into shape.
She liked the one she was working on now. It was oval shaped, and she wrapped the handle round and round with barb-free metal. Maybe she’d keep this one for Abigail’s Christmas present.
“Getting late.”
She dropped the wire cutters. They hit the dirt floor with a clunk.
“Sorry. Thought you heard me come in.”
“I was busy.” She shot him a look, taking in his long, sturdy frame in that split second. Her heart galloped in her chest, and she wasn’t entirely sure it was from the fright.
It didn’t slow as he approached.
“I see that.” He picked up a basket and looked it over while Shay finished the one she was working on.
She hated the tension that had crawled into the barn with him. The way it had continually these last several weeks. Only now it wasn’t d
aytime, and Olivia wasn’t waiting at home. Now they faced a long, quiet night, and Shay wondered how she’d get any sleep with Travis lying so near in the empty house.
He touched her on the shoulder, and she jumped.
Why was he out here? He was supposed to fall asleep on the sofa and let her sneak in later. He was ruining the plan.
“Talk to me.”
She shrugged. “Nothing to say.”
“You’re strung tighter’n these wires.”
“You scared me, is all.”
He hooked a finger under her jaw, turning her face. “It’s more’n that.”
She pulled away. “You haven’t exactly been Mr. Easygoing lately either, you know.”
He was quiet so long she almost looked at him. Almost. In the quiet, she could feel her pulse throbbing in her neck.
“Reckon you’re right,” he said.
She could count on one hand the times she’d heard that from a man. One finger.
“It’s harder than I thought.”
“What is?” she asked, then pressed her lips together, suddenly sure she didn’t want to know.
“Loving you.”
She looked at him, feeling the tug of two emotions. Pleasure at his declaration of love, offense at his implication. It was easier to focus on the latter.
She dropped the basket and jerked off her gloves. “That’s an awful thing to say.” She turned to leave.
If she was so hard to love, why didn’t he just stop it? Why didn’t he just leave now?
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he called.
She made it as far as the third empty stall before he stopped her, turning her around.
“Blast it, Shay, why are you always twisting my words?”
She pulled her arm away. “I didn’t twist anything.” She was surprised by the sting of his words. How did he have the power to hurt her? When had she surrendered that to him?
“It’s easier to fight than admit the feelings, isn’t it?”
“You’re delusional.” She turned to go.
He pulled her to him, and she smacked into the hard wall of his chest. Their breath tangled in the air between them for an instant.
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