He fell in beside her as they strolled toward the entrance. A train whistle blared, practically deafening him, and Kit jumped, slapping her hand against her chest. He met her shocked gaze. “Wasn’t expecting that.”
“Me, neither.” She raised her eyebrows. “Home sweet home.”
Over his dead body...
They entered the lobby, and Wade forced himself to keep his cool. The forest green carpeting had stains and worn patches. Striped wallpaper peeled in several places. As they approached the front desk, he clenched and unclenched his hands and did everything in his power to stay quiet. The counter had deep scratch marks. Had someone knifed it? And what, for the love of Wyoming, was that smell?
Breathe through your mouth.
The clerk behind the desk didn’t look up.
They waited.
And waited.
As much as he wanted to scoop Kit into his arms and run out of here, he remained silent. If he said one wrong thing, she’d dig her heels in. He would convince her not to stay here, but in order to do that, he needed a level of patience he might not possess.
“Excuse me.” Kit’s pleasant voice didn’t fit here. She didn’t belong here.
“Just a sec.” The clerk continued to stare at the computer screen.
Just a sec? Wade was this close to grabbing the guy by the collar and informing him what good service entailed.
“Yeah?” Bored eyes looked up at them.
“Kit McAllistor.” She lifted her chin. “You have a room for me.”
“Oh, right.”
“She’d like to see the room before she puts down a deposit.” Wade leaned forward.
“Whatever you say.” The clerk ignored them as he typed. Then he held out a key card to her. “Your room is on the second floor. End of the hall, Kate.”
“It’s Kit,” Wade practically growled.
“Okay, Kit.”
Don’t beat the twerp up. Keep your eyes on the prize.
He’d have Kit in and out of here in ten minutes. Tops.
“Where are the elevators?” she asked the clerk.
“Don’t have them. Stairs are to the left.”
Wade held his arm out to her and gave the jerk the most lethal glare he could muster, but the kid had already resumed staring at the computer screen.
The smell of wet dog, mold, and what he could only describe as liver and onions filled the hall. Surely, the scent alone would send Kit running back to her car. She couldn’t seriously be considering living here, could she?
They climbed the stairs and turned left. This hall smelled marginally better than the one downstairs. Kit stopped in front of the door. It looked like she was praying, but he couldn’t be sure. Then she slid the card into the slot. Red light. She swiped it again. Red light.
He took it from her and quickly swiped it twice, getting a green light. She opened the door and walked in, with him on her heels.
The train whistle blew again, and the rumble of the cars moving on the tracks was so loud they could have been right outside the building. Wade crossed over to the window. The train was right outside the building. The railroad tracks butted up to the property. He swiped the curtains shut.
He could stay silent no longer.
He was getting her out of here.
Turning, he opened his mouth to let her know in no uncertain terms that this place was a dump and there was no way he was leaving her, but he didn’t have a chance to speak.
With her hands over her face and her shoulders shaking, Kit sobbed.
Stupid Jambalaya Suites. Muttering under his breath, he took three strides and pulled her into his arms.
“It’s okay, Kitty Cat,” he said softly. “You’re not staying here.”
She lowered her hands, tears streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry, Wade, I don’t mean to be like this. But the thought of spending the next month or so here... I’m already nauseous from the smell—and I can’t take the noise and the carpet and the awful bedspread...”
“I know. I think someone heated up liver and onions, and that’s unacceptable.”
“I could handle the smell. I think I could, at least, but it’s so loud, and there’s no front porch with a rocker. And the bathroom tile freaks me out. Where are the butterflies? I can’t do this!”
He didn’t know what she was talking about, but if it meant she was coming home with him, he liked it. Keeping his arms around her, he stroked her hair. Soft, lush hair. “Shh... I know. This is no place for you.”
“I agree.” She stepped out of his embrace, tilting her chin up. “I’m finding another hotel.”
“What?” Didn’t she get it? She wasn’t staying in Casper in a hotel. She was coming back to JPX Ranch, where she’d have rest and fresh air and good food. And him.
He needed to keep an eye on her...as long as possible.
“Come on.” She hurried to the door. “I’m serious. We have to find another hotel. Today.”
The familiar no-budging tone had him gritting his teeth. Just when he thought he’d won, she threw down a new gauntlet. He couldn’t argue with that tone. No one could.
“Fine.” He’d take her to other hotels, but he wasn’t going to leave her at any of them.
He hadn’t been in the habit of praying for a long time. But he needed help. This was a situation he couldn’t control on his own. Would God even listen to a guy like him? He knew he was saved. Believed Jesus had died and risen for him. But he hadn’t been to church in years. And he kept a Bible in his nightstand only because when he left it on top all it did was gather dust.
Look, God, I know we’re not exactly tight, but Kit’s a praying woman. She might think she’s better off here in Casper, but I need You to convince her to come back with me. I don’t want her alone in her condition.
Wade followed Kit out of the room. He clearly needed to work on his praying skills.
In the meantime, maybe if he gave her more reasons to come back with him, she’d cave. He’d think of them while they drove.
* * *
She hadn’t felt this low in, well, a week, but today had been extra discouraging. Kit slid into the booth of the restaurant Wade had picked out. Her carefully constructed plan had fallen apart.
The best hotel with long-term vacancy was three times the price of Jambalaya Suites. She couldn’t afford it, and even if she could, the room had been small, and she hadn’t liked the location.
None of the rooms she’d toured today had a view of meadows. None of them had a big comfy bed and a gourmet kitchen. She’d felt claustrophobic in them. All the anxieties she’d been fighting a week ago had flooded back to her as she’d stood in the confined spaces.
If she stayed in any of the hotels, she’d spend every waking minute worrying about the baby. At Wade’s she’d been able to rest, to think, to clear her head. And while she hadn’t exactly been happy, she’d felt more like herself than she had in years. Which in itself unsettled her. Who was she if not Kit McAllistor?
“What are you hungry for?” Wade peered over his menu. “I’m starving. Let’s get an appetizer.”
She realized how hungry she was. “Yeah, I’m famished.”
“I’ll