by Andre, Bella
He made a rough sound in the back of his throat. “I’m not going to tell her anything. And it’s okay if she’s curious. Let people be curious. You don’t owe them an explanation.”
“I do—” she broke off, frowned. “Don’t I?”
“They already know the wedding didn’t happen. What more do they need to know?”
Everything, she thought, painfully familiar with how small towns thrived on gossip. It’s one of the reasons she’d left Marietta after completing two years of community college in Bozeman. She didn’t want people talking about her, and they couldn’t talk about her if they didn’t know who she was, which is why Chicago had appealed. It was a big city, far from Marietta, and even though the Chicago temp agency warned Jenny that it was unlikely that she’d find a desirable job in corporate America due to her lack of skills, Jenny proved the agency wrong. She’d shown them that anyone could do anything if you worked hard enough.
“True,” she said, but so unconvincingly that Colton’s eyebrow lifted.
She made a face. “They’re going to talk,” she added.
“So?”
“I hate it when people talk.”
“Some folks have nothing better to do than talk, but it shouldn’t bother you. You don’t answer to other people. They don’t own you, or control you, so you shouldn’t care what they think.”
She nearly ducked her head. “I’m just... private.”
“Me, too. But being private doesn’t mean others won’t gossip.” He studied her a moment. “Sounds like it’s time you toughened up. Grew some thick skin. Otherwise, darlin’, you aren’t going to survive this life. Beautiful and fragile make a pretty ornament on a Christmas tree but not for every day living.”
Jenny didn’t like that at all. “I’m not beautiful and fragile. I’m pretty tough, actually.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I may not look like a Montana girl in this fancy gown, but I’m no innocent. I’ve been around the block before and you’re right, life can play rough, but so can I.” And then she marched up the steps to her childhood home, head high, shoulders squared to prove the point.
Jenny Wright wasn’t a fragile, decorative little thing.
Jenny Wright was Montana born.
She had guts. And grit. And no man was going to define her. Not now. Not ever.
Chapter Four
Colton watched Jenny climb the steps of her house, her gently rounded hips swaying with every step up the sagging wooden stairs to her front door as if she were Cinderella returning home after the ball.
He felt a strange ache in his chest as she opened the unlocked front door and disappeared inside the house without a backward glance.
Gone.
As she should be.
This was her home, her family, this is where she belonged.
And yet...
And yet...
No, he couldn’t go there. He didn’t need complications. He was a traveling man, a man who needed nothing more than his leather duffel and his truck. Women didn’t belong on the road, certainly not pretty little blonde things like Jenny Wright.
But he was disappointed when the door closed behind her. He liked looking at her. She was easy on the eyes and damn hard on his self-control.
Returning to his truck, though, Colton wondered at her life in Chicago. What kind of man would leave his woman at the church on her wedding day? What kind of man would abandon his woman just when she was feeling safe?
A man who was no man at all, he thought, shaking his head, disgusted.
Colton drove home and parked in front of his house. His sister’s car, a silver Jeep Cherokee, was in the driveway. Tricia was back.
He entered the house through the kitchen door. His mom and sister were in the kitchen, his mom in her wheelchair at the table, with Tricia at the stove, in a pretty teal cocktail dress and heels, boiling water for tea.
“Apparently he changed his mind,” Tricia said, lifting the whistling kettle off the hot burner. “Nobody knows exactly why, but Carol Bingley said Charles realized that Jenny was marrying him for his money—”
“What?” Colton demanded, tossing his cowboy hat onto the kitchen table and turning to face his sister.
“I was just telling Mom about the wedding I went to this afternoon,” Tricia said, dropping tea bags into the two mugs on the counter. “We sat around for a half-hour waiting for Jen and Charles to put in an appearance and then abruptly Charles showed up and said the wedding was off, and that was that—” she glanced at Colton. “Do you want tea?”
He shook his head. “No. And that’s a terrible thing to say about your friend.”
Tricia made a face. “I didn’t say it. Carol Bingley said it.”
“What’s terrible is that you’d repeat it.”
“I don’t believe it. Everyone knows Mrs. Bingley is the worst gossip ever, but Mom wanted to know what happened, so I was giving her all the details.” Tricia filled the mugs with hot water and looked at her mom. “You should have come today, Mom. It was certainly interesting, and you were invited.”
Mrs. Thorpe folded her hands in her lap. “It’s not easy getting around in my wheelchair.”
“Colt said he’d help you,” Tricia answered, placing the tea kettle back on the stove and glancing at her brother. “I could have sworn she invited you, too, you know. At least, she asked me for your address.”
“I didn’t get an invite,” he said shortly. But even if he’d received one, he probably hadn’t even opened the envelope. Colton avoided weddings like the plague. So not his thing. “And why is Mrs. Bingley gossiping about Jenny in the first place? Jenny hasn’t lived here for years.”
Tricia shrugged. “The wedding was a big deal, not just here, but in Chicago. Their engagement was written up in all the papers—he’s old Chicago money, so their wedding was this big society thing—and apparently some Chicago lifestyle magazine was doing a big glossy feature on the Montana wedding. They even flew a writer and photographer out to cover it. Mrs. Bingley was talking about that quite a bit, too.”
“It’s all so stupid,” Colton retorted, leaning against the counter and folding his arm over his big chest, the fabric tight across his shoulders. “Weddings should be about the bride and groom, not society.”
Tricia shot him an arch look. “If I recall, your wedding seven years ago was the wedding of the year in Tulsa.”
He made a rough sound. “Like I said, weddings should be about the bride and groom, not the parents, not the family, not society. A wedding is two people making a huge commitment to each other, and that’s personal. And private.”
“I take it when you get married next time you’re having a very small wedding?” Tricia teased, carrying the steaming mugs to the table, placing one in front of her mother before sitting down with the other.
“Not getting married again,” he said shortly. “I’ll bed a woman but I’m not going to be her ATM.”
“Colton!” Mrs. Thorpe exclaimed. “I won’t tolerate rude talk and crass behavior in my home.”
“Sorry, Mom.” His big shoulders shifted, biceps bunching. “But I’ve learned my lesson. Not going down the path again.”
Tricia gave him a sympathetic glance. “You didn’t know Lisa was so material—”
“How did we even get onto this subject?” He demanded. “It’s not my favorite subject. We were talking about Jenny.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “And what makes Mrs. Bingley think Jenny was marrying for money?”
Tricia took a second to answer, choosing her words with care. “Jenny is really smart, and practical. She grew up without a lot of security, and it’s important to her. She wouldn’t marry a man without some... resources. She just wouldn’t. She said as much when she left Marietta all those years ago, too.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s a gold digger,” he protested, not liking any of this.
“And I never said she was. I’m just repeating Mrs. Bingley’s gossip...” Tricia shrugged, lifted her mug,
and blew on the steaming surface before looking up at her brother. “But if you saw Charles Monmouth, you’d wonder, too. He might be filthy rich, but he’s certainly not much to look at, and Jenny’s gorgeous now, Colt. Really gorgeous—”
“I am sure he had good traits besides his bank account,” Colton said, cutting her short. “Besides, love is supposed to be blind.”
“Definitely in this case.” Tricia carefully sipped her tea. “Charles looks like PeeWee Herman. Total goober.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry if that sounds unkind, but he’s definitely not my type. Not that my love life is anything to brag about.” She looked from her mother to her brother. “But regarding Jenny, I’m on her side. I don’t blame her for choosing security and stability over handsome and sexy—”
“Don’t want to hear any more.” Colton pushed off the counter, unable and unwilling to listen to another word. There really was too much gossip in Marietta. But wasn’t that always the curse of small towns? He crossed to his mother, dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “What time do you want to go out for dinner, Mom?”
“We don’t need to go out tonight after all,” his mom answered, tilting her head back to look up at him. “Dinner is being delivered.”
“It is?” he asked, surprised.
“One of the Wright girls is dropping dinner off. Mandy or Charity. I forget which.”
Tricia saw Colton’s confused expression and quickly explained, “The prime rib dinner at the Graff Hotel was already prepared and paid for, and Mandy knew Jenny would hate to have it wasted so she’s organizing meals, and promised to drop us off dinner for the three of us on her way back home tonight.”
Colton couldn’t imagine a worse dinner. “We’re eating the wedding leftovers?”
“Not leftovers. The reception was cancelled, and there is food for one hundred and fifty. It’s a prime rib dinner, too, Colton,” his mother said. “From The Graff.”
“I understand that,” he answered, opening the refrigerator and looking for something cold to drink. A beer would be perfect right now but the only cold drinks were his mother’s cans of Ensure. He closed the refrigerator door, and ran his palm over his jaw, feeling trapped, thinking Grey’s Saloon sounded like the perfect place to be right now. “But I thought I was taking you out, Mom.”
“There’s no need to go out if we can eat a nice meal in,” his mom answered.
“Mandy’s going to a lot of trouble delivering all these dinners, too,” Tricia added. “The least we can do is eat the meal she’s delivering.”
Colton knew better than to argue with two women at one time, especially if they were his mom and sister. “Fine. We’ll eat here, and I’ll take you out another night. I’m here for a week. We have plenty of time to visit the Diner.” He leaned past his mom, reached for his hat and jammed it on his head. “And since dinner isn’t here, I’m going to head over to Grey’s and have a beer or two. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”
And then he was walking out the kitchen door before his sister or mom could stop him.
He needed fresh air, a strong drink, and some non-chatty male company because it made him sick to think that beautiful Jenny Wright might have actually been marrying this Charles guy for his money.
Jenny was grateful when Chelsea and Sage appeared at her front door, with her suitcase from the hotel, and her clothes and makeup from the parish hall. They’d come to rescue her, they told her, after greeting her parents, and giving her hugs.
Jenny didn’t need rescuing, but she did need to get out. She needed her friends, too. Chelsea and Sage had been close friends since high school, although Chelsea and Sage had been friends long before that, having gone to the same elementary school while Jenny attended Park Elementary on the opposite side of town. Park Elementary was also a bit of a euphemism, as directly across from the school’s playground was a gun store, a liquor store, and a gas station catering to the truckers.
In Marietta, the wrong side of the tracks was literally the wrong side of the tracks.
But now she and Sage and Chelsea were out, having taken over one of the booths at the back of Grey’s Saloon and drinking Cosmos in short tumblers because that’s how they did it at Grey’s.
Fortunately, Reese was there behind the bar tonight, and he made the drinks extra strong, having heard all about the non-wedding wedding event from other customers earlier.
“It’s going to be okay,” Jenny said for what must have been the fifth time since arriving at Grey’s Saloon with Sage and Chelsea a half-hour ago. “Everything will be fine,” she added firmly, as if saying so would make it true. “I’ll find a new job and settle in and soon all this will be behind me.”
“You’re going to stay in Chicago then?” Sage asked, her wrinkled brow revealing her misgivings.
“I’m happy there,” Jenny answered. She saw Sage and Chelsea exchanged dubious glances. “I am,” she insisted. “It’s familiar now. I’m comfortable there.”
“It’s also expensive,” Chelsea said. “Money goes a lot farther here.”
Jenny rubbed her thumb across the moisture beading her tumbler. The drink was good and strong and it was warming her nicely. She wasn’t a big drinker but the vodka was easing the chill inside her. It’d been brutal at home, facing her parents, explaining that Charles had changed his mind and she didn’t know why, but she had to believe it was for the best.
Maybe it was.
Maybe it wasn’t.
She was just glad she hadn’t cried while apologizing to them. She hadn’t crumpled. She’d stood tall, and her voice had been firm, and she’d kissed her parents, and hugged them.
Jenny may have been calm, but her mom had been emotional, pressing trembling fingers to her mouth, while tears welled in her eyes. “Did we do something wrong, baby?” her mother had asked.
“Heavens no,” Jenny answered briskly, hugging her mother again. “This was between Charles and me. This was an us thing, not a you thing, and I’m sorry for the embarrassment I’ve caused. I’m sorry to disappoint you, too. I know you both were so excited and proud.”
Thank goodness the doorbell rang then. Chelsea and Sage arrived in the nick of time. They’d changed from their bridesmaid gowns into street clothes and had unpinned and combed out their hair, losing the formal wedding up-dos.
“We figured you didn’t need to bump into the Monmouths again today,” Chelsea said, setting the suitcase in the hall.
“And you probably would like to get out of the dress,” Sage added. “So we brought clothes.” She held up a little gold bag. “And chocolates.”
Of course Sage would bring chocolates. Sage, owner of Copper Mountain Chocolates, knew Jenny had a terrible weakness for salted caramels and dark decadent chocolate. Jenny smiled through her tears. “Thank you.”
“Now go change,” Chelsea said. “We’re dragging you out for a drink. And even if you don’t need one, we do. We want to know what’s going on.”
At Grey’s Saloon, in the back booth in the dark bar, Jenny told them everything. Or virtually everything. She left out the part about meeting Colton Thorpe, and running down the street, and then the ride home in Colton’s truck...
“Don’t leave,” Chelsea said more firmly. “You belong here. This is home.”
Jenny pushed back a long blonde lock of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “What would I do here?”
“Do what you do in Chicago... administrative stuff. Assistant to the manager sort of thing.” Chelsea thought for a moment. “I wonder if the school district office could use you. You should check on Monday and see if they have any openings.”
“I’m sure there would be something in Bozeman,” Sage said.
“But that’s a forty-minute drive,” Chelsea protested. “She won’t want to do that, especially in winter. She might as well live in Bozeman then, which actually isn’t a terrible idea. Bozeman would probably be easier for you, if you’ve gotten used to city living, and they have the university there, and lots of big corporations...” Her voice
drifted away, her attention caught by something happening at the front of the bar.
Jenny turned to look to see what Chelsea was looking at, and her heart did a funny double beat.
Colton Thorpe had arrived.
Heat surged through her, blood scalding her cheeks. Feeling terribly juvenile and breathless, she watched as he crossed the saloon and took a seat at the long bar counter.
“Wow,” Sage said.
Chelsea watched Jenny watching Colton. “Didn’t you used to have a huge crush on Colton?” she asked, trying to suppress a smirk and failing. Probably deliberately failing, too. “Back when we were in high school?”
Still hot, cheeks still burning, Jenny shook her head hard. “No.”
Chelsea’s smirk grew. “Yes, you did. You did. And it was bad.”
“No, not in high school,” Jenny said, tugging on her black sweater, ridiculously overwarm. “Maybe in sixth grade. Seventh grade. Back when I was just a kid and didn’t know better.”
Chapter Five
Shoulders hunched, Colton propped his elbows on the bar and glared at his beer bottle.
He was angry. He felt cheated. Robbed.
He came to Grey’s Saloon for a cold drink and some proper male conversation—small talk about crops and ranching, weather and how it impacted local crops and ranchers, as well as speculation about tomorrow’s NFL games.
What he didn’t come for was female chatter and laughter. And he certainly didn’t drive to Grey’s Saloon to be around Jenny Wright.
He was here to escape thoughts of Jenny Wright.
But even at the counter he could hear her and her friends in the back booth talking. She was with one of the Carrigan girls... one of Dani’s younger sisters. He’d gone to school with Dani. They’d been in the same class. He’d kissed her their freshman year of high school at a party. Seven minutes in heaven or something like that. And then the seven minutes became fourteen. She wouldn’t let it go further than that. But of course he had to try.
