at shopping for dresses. You know me, I’m always in jeans and T-shirts.”
Nodding, her mouth full, Rachel mumbled, “Just let me finish this fritter and we’ll go.”
Kylie glanced around her small shop. She still had to clean out the glass case and sweep and mop the floor. Get the coffee ready for tomorrow morning’s rush. At least the kitchen was finished.
She looked down at her frumpy dress. It couldn’t hurt to spend a few bucks on something that had been manufactured in the twenty-first century.
“Hey, where’s the other turnover?” Sally asked.
Still chewing, Rachel pointed to her tummy.
Sally’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re kidding?”
Mallory looked surprised too, but she just laughed and headed for the door.
“Nope,” Rachel said. “After all, I’m eating for two now.”
Mallory’s hand froze on the doorknob as she slowly turned with a shocked expression that rivaled Sally’s. Kylie couldn’t move at all. Neither her feet nor her mouth seemed to be working.
“You little devil.” Sally rushed in and hugged Rachel so hard she started coughing. “How far along are you?” Sally drew back but held Rachel at arm’s length. “For heaven’s sake, hurry and finish coughing and tell us everything.”
“Congratulations, Rach,” Mallory said. “I’m so happy for you and Matt.”
Kylie struggled to speak. Her jaw was locked shut, so she hurried into the kitchen for a glass of water. And to give herself time to slow down her heart rate and to fight back the tears that threatened to burst from her eyes.
She was happy for Rachel. Of course she was... Rachel was a kind and wonderful person. So was her husband, Matt, and they’d been trying to get pregnant since Kylie had moved to town.
Kylie gulped down the water, then brought out another glass. She knew she was being irrational. Kylie was only twenty-six, but she’d always planned to have started her own family by now. With Gary. The lying scumbag, who for nine years had promised her a happily-ever-after. He’d painted a perfect picture. Right after he won his first big cash prize, she’d get her dream wedding. They’d have a passel of kids, with enough money to fulfill all their dreams.
She could still hear him say, “Honey, everything I do, I do for us.” He’d said it so often, she should’ve been suspicious. Or even had a clue. Long before she’d caught him with two blondes in the bed Kylie had shared with him.
* * *
SHORTLY AFTER LANDON KINCAID crossed into Wyoming he spotted an exit sign up ahead. It was getting late, the September sun already dipping behind the Rockies in the distance. Probably about time for him to stop for the night. Too bad his mom was away visiting his sister in Salt Lake. His family’s ranch, which his older brothers had been running since their dad’s passing, was just over a hundred miles south. Landon figured he’d catch them on his way back.
Anyway, this exit was as good as any since he hadn’t planned on driving straight through to Blackfoot Falls. His leg ached from sitting behind the wheel for the better part of ten hours. The last thing he wanted to do was to hobble out of his truck like an old man after not seeing Kylie for a whole year.
Yeah, she’d seen him in worse shape, even patched him up plenty of times in the past. But that’s not why he’d been driving eleven hundred miles to see her. After she’d kicked Gary out of her life, Landon had promised himself he’d give her a year—give them both a year—before he made his intentions clear.
Tomorrow would be thirteen months and two weeks. He would’ve showed up sooner if he hadn’t busted up his leg. Waiting had been brutal. The image of her climbing into her rickety compact on the night she’d left Iowa, the muffler about ready to fall off, had been imprinted in his mind. Her face had been blotchy, her nose red and her eyes puffy, and all he’d wanted to do was put his arms around her and hold on tight. Instead, he’d asked if he could help load her belongings.
She’d turned on him so fast, her fury tangible in the night air. He could still hear her words...
“I don’t want anything to do with any of you damn cowboys. You hear me? Nothing. If you want to help, leave me alone.” She’d thrown two more boxes into the car, and swung back to face him. “Everything was fine between Gary and me until you—”
She hadn’t finished. Just fled to safety behind the wheel.
He’d just stood there like a helpless idiot, twisted with guilt and a deep, gut-wrenching sense of loss, trying not to feel responsible for everything that had gone wrong for Kylie those last two years, as he watched his best friend’s girl drive away.
Shaking the memory off, Landon turned his truck into a motel parking lot. Hell, he didn’t even remember leaving the expressway. That kind of crap had happened too many times in the past couple of months. Thoughts of seeing Kylie again, hoping she’d give him a chance to fix things, had distracted him. Cost him plenty, too.
Stopping under the flashing green vacancy sign, he’d planned on letting the truck idle while he dashed into the office. Naturally, his leg wouldn’t cooperate. He tried flexing the muscle but it burned like hell. Impatient, he grabbed his crutches. Lately, he did okay without them...as long as he didn’t overdo it. Now wasn’t the time to be stupid.
After he’d registered and gotten a key, he drove across the parking lot to the gas station on the corner. All six pumps were free and he figured it was better to refuel now and leave his options open tomorrow. Hell, he might even tackle some extra exercises the physical therapist had given him.
Leaning on one crutch for support, he was halfway through filling the tank when someone pulled up next to him. He nodded at the older man getting out of his battered pickup loaded with bales of hay. Landon realized someone else was in the truck when he heard the passenger door slam.
“Hey, aren’t you Landon Kincaid?” The scruffy blond kid coming around the bed looked to be in his midteens.
“Last time I checked.” Landon eyed the baggy jeans and the backwards baseball cap. Not the typical rodeo fan but he obviously followed the sport. A year ago the kid probably wouldn’t have recognized him.
After eight years of rodeoing, Landon had finally made it to the national finals last December. He hadn’t nabbed the title, but he’d gotten close enough that fans had taken notice. So had two major sponsors. And then Landon had gone and done something stupid.
“Hey, Gramps,” the boy said. “You know who this is, right?”
The man lifted the gas pump nozzle and squinted at Landon. “You gonna make it to the finals again?”
“I hope so. Or I’ll die trying.”
“Well, don’t do that,” the man said, chuckling. “You still got time. How much longer before they let you back on a bronc?”
“A couple weeks.” He heard a click, added enough fuel to round up to the next dollar and removed the nozzle. Forgetting about the crutch, he almost lost his balance.
“Is that what the doc says?” The man watched the crutch bounce off Landon’s truck and land on the oil-stained cement.
“Maybe three weeks,” Landon muttered.
“Everybody was shocked you got thrown, even the commentators.” The kid picked up the crutch and brought it to him. “Lucky that mare didn’t stomp your head. I heard she missed your ear by an inch.”
Yeah, tell him something he didn’t already know. “Thanks,” Landon said, opening his door and shoving the crutch to the passenger side.
“What happened? She get spooked?”
“Come on, Tommy,” the grandfather said, giving the boy a stern look. “Leave the man alone.”
Landon