The idea simmered in Aimee’s head. “Do you think we could pull it together by New Year’s?” She was slowly getting a third, maybe fourth wind in her sails.
“You tell Dusty that Jerry and I will cater the snacks. Rebecca can make her pies. Jerry can help behind the bar.”
Sally piped up. “Maggie over at the paper is in our online class. Maybe she’d help us with advertising?”
Aimee considered the idea and grabbed Sally’s hand. “Let’s go talk to Dusty and see how he feels about this.” Aimee’s phone buzzed in her hand as she was getting in behind the wheel, but by the time she found it in her purse, the caller had hung up. She checked the missed calls list and her heart leaped to see that it was the number of the Kinnison ranch.
“Do you need to make a call?” Sally tossed her a look as she buckled herself in.
Aimee wondered why he hadn’t left a message. She’d call him as soon as she talked to Dusty and got things set up. “I’ll call them back. If it’s important, they’d have left a message.”
“You’re sure?” Sally prodded.
“Positive,” Aimee responded.
By evening of the next day Aimee had an enthusiastic Dusty on board. He offered to take care of getting a karaoke machine from a friend of his. Betty had taken charge of the food. Maggie gave them a free full-page ad in the Wednesday social section of the
End Times
and printed flyers to place in businesses in surrounding towns. Sally posted details of the fundraiser after her online class. Aimee noticed, too, there’d been no posts from Montana.
Later that night as she sat on the couch, surrounded by the stacks of notes for her karaoke event, she dug into her purse and found her phone. Perplexed when she realized she hadn’t heard it ring all day, she checked her charger and discovered it hadn’t been completely plugged into the outlet. She pushed it into the wall and plugged in her phone, gasping as it sparked to life and she saw the list of missed calls. The only messages left, however, were a couple from her parents, who’d indicated they’d just returned and had a wonderful time in Vegas. Seeing the Kinnison number, she pressed the call back and waited while it rang. She reasoned that she’d been busy with planning her event and hadn’t included him because of his preference not to participate in such things. It was, perhaps, a lame excuse for being afraid that she might find out how she felt was only one-sided. She sighed as she waited through several rings and was about to hang up when Wyatt answered.
“Hello.” The shortness of his response caused her to think she’d interrupted him.
“Hi, Wyatt. How are you?”
“Good. You?”
Aimee chuckled. “Well, pretty busy to be honest.”
“So it seems.”
“I’m sorry, Wyatt. I had every intent of returning your call, but in the chaos of my life, I just realized that I hadn’t gotten my charger plugged into the wall properly and my phone…well, and while it sounds like a lame excuse, you didn’t really leave me any messages, so didn’t know whether that meant it was important or not.”
“It means I don’t like to leave messages.”
“Oh, well, was the reason you called important?”
He cleared his throat. “Uh, Dalton found a pair of socks in his sheets when he laundered them. I thought I remembered Rory wearing a pair like them.”
There was a twinge of pain in her chest. “Oh well, you can bring them up to the school anytime, or here if you happen to be in town.”
“Okay,” was his unrevealing answer.
Aimee felt as though she was crawling out on a limb. “Was there any other reason you called?”
A long silence followed before he spoke. “Maybe now’s not a good time, Aimee. You’re pretty busy with things.”
She stumbled over her words, trying to understand what was happening between them, or if in fact, anything ever had. She ran her hand through her hair. “Listen, the annual potluck was canceled due to the storm and um, well, instead we’ve come up with a karaoke fundraiser at Dusty’s this Friday night to raise money and nonperishable for the food pantry.”
Another a moment of silence.
“I’ll pass along the information to Rein and Dalton.”
Aimee was taken aback by his clipped response. “Well, I guess I hoped you’d come, too.” She attempted to ease the tension between them. “I promise not to make you get on stage and sing, even though it would be for a good cause.” She heard his sigh on the other end of the phone. “Wyatt, is this because I didn’t answer your calls?”
“No, it’s not, Aimee. Listen, it’s like I said, fundraisers just aren’t my thing. I wish you great success with it and I’m sure Rein and Dalton will make a sizeable donation to the cause.”
“But, Wyatt—”
“Say, I’m in the middle of something here. I’m going to have to let you go. Good luck, and maybe we can catch up later. Bye, now.”
As though hit by a freight train, Aimee held the phone to her ear and listened to the silence. Maybe he was upset about her not returning his calls, but he’d not left her any messages asking her to, or to say that he was remotely interested in seeing her again. In addition, she’d made the first move and given him the option to help her with the fundraising project.
He turned her down…flat.
She tossed her phone beside her and crossed her arms across her chest. Could she have been wrong about him? Had what happened between them at the ranch meant nothing? Frustrated, she squeezed her eyes shut and mentally smacked him upside the head. Then she took a cleansing breath, picked up her clipboard, and scanned the list of things she had to accomplish before Friday.
Dammit
. She didn’t have time for this. Whether the events of those two days meant anything to Wyatt or not, they had to her. If he didn’t want to pursue it then it was his loss. If she’d learned nothing else from losing her sister, it was that she had to move on. Life didn’t stop just because her heart was breaking.
***
Friday night, cars and trucks of every make and model filled the two gravel parking lots that surrounded Dusty’s. Cars were parked along the side street, bumper-to-bumper, stretching several blocks back to the town square. With Jerry’s help, Dusty had constructed a small stage in one corner of the bar, complete with a single spotlight. Gus over at RadioShack had donated a medium-sized flat-screen for people to read the song lyrics for the karaoke.
Aimee stood next to Sally, astounded by the turnout. The large pickle jars Dusty had placed at the entrance and both ends of the bar were already stuffed with coins and bills. Another bucket near the stage was nearly full with donations from patrons who had tried their hand at karaoke. Her gaze caught sight of a tall cowboy with a hat like Wyatt’s and her heart leaped as she thought he’d changed his mind. But another closer look in the murky light revealed Dalton in his ball cap walking behind another man. “It’s just Rein,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry, honey.” Sally stood beside her and apparently had seen the hope on Aimee’s face. “Just Rein ain’t half bad. I wouldn’t push him out of bed for eating crackers, if you know what I mean.”
Aimee sighed and tossed her a smile. “I think I’ll go see if his brothers can enlighten me as to what Mr. Kinnison is doing these days.”
She weaved her way through the crowd and stopped once or twice to thank those she recognized for coming. There were even those who were interested in becoming sponsors if it should become an annual event. Overwhelmed by the generous support, Aimee took their names and phone numbers in case she chose to do it again next year. Finally, she made her way to the booth where Wyatt’s brothers sat. “Mind if I join you for a minute?” Rein moved over to make room.
“Thanks for coming, guys.” She looked around the crowded room and then back to Dalton. “Couldn’t convince your brother to come, huh?” She caught Rein’s quick glance at Dalton and red flags went up in her mind. She had a bad feeling if she pressed too much, she might not like what she heard and it would ruin her evening. And she damn sure wasn’t about to pine over Wyatt like some prom date gone bad.
Dalton removed his hat and scratched his dark beard. Aimee figured he was searching for a diplomatic way to explain the truth. Maybe she didn’t really want to know, but just in case, she wanted to have the upper hand.
“Listen, I don’t mean to put you on the spot. I’ve known since I first met Wyatt that he prefers to do things his way. He also told me he hates crowds, fundraisers, and just about every community event.” She stood and wanted to add that she’d hoped what happened between them meant enough to have his support, but clearly it hadn’t, and so she kept quiet. There was no reason to drag his brothers into the fray. Aimee looked up and coming through the door met the eyes of a man she hadn’t seen in a while. He offered her a lopsided grin and made a beeline toward her. She eased back into the booth and hoped Mr. Metallica didn’t remember her. “You were saying?” She clasped her hands and looked at Dalton. With any luck, he’d walk right by.
“Hey there, sugarbee. We heard about your little fundraiser and me and the boys thought we ought to stop by and give you a little donation.” Steven and his buddies gave Aimee, Rein, and Dalton the once-over.
“Dusty has jars all over the place for your donations. If you’d like to take a shot at the karaoke machine, it’s only five dollars.” She gave him a pleasant smile.
He grinned, pulled out a crumpled fifty-dollar bill, and snapped it between his fingers. He slapped it on the table in front of her. “That’s for the cause, sugarbee, but we’d like to request that you sing us a song.”
Aimee nodded and reached for the bill, but the man pulled it from her grasp with a wicked grin. Rein shifted in his seat next to her.
“You get this…after you sing, sugarbee.” His gaze touched on the men seated with her.
Aimee nodded. Amid the male tension, her first and only thought was to get rid of Steven and his posse.
“Later, sugarbee.”
She took a deep breath and turned toward the departing group. “My name is not—”
Rein touched her arm.
“Not worth it, Aimee. Let it go. Think of the cause.”
“He’s an ass.”
“Agreed, but definitely not worth the trouble he could cause.”
She considered his words and glanced at Dalton, letting her blood pressure slowly return to normal. “You’re right,” she said.
Dalton offered her a congenial smile. “Wyatt happen to mention why he hates this place?”
Chapter Fifteen
For the third time, Wyatt flipped through one hundred seventy three channels. He glanced at the tree sparkling quietly in the corner. He’d started to take it down the day after Christmas but received protests from Rein and Dalton, who wanted to leave it up until at least after the New Year. But like the half-eaten sandwich and glass of milk in front of him, the tree, the snow, the kitchen counter—nearly every damn thing in his life reminded him of Aimee. He could rope and brand a cow, even face a mountain lion, but he refused to acknowledge the tender seedlings of what he felt for this eccentric, blue-eyed schoolteacher. Dalton’s insistence earlier had caused him to dig his heels in even further.
“You stubborn, old S.O.B., don’t you realize you might be throwing away the best thing that ever happened to you?” His brother stood at the door with his jacket in hand. Rein had gone out to warm up the truck.
“Dalton, we butt heads every time we get on this subject. You know how I feel about Dusty’s.” Wyatt felt Dalton’s penetrating gaze boring into the back of his skull and looked over his shoulder. Yep, there it was.
“Forget about the bar, Wyatt. I’m talking about supporting Aimee. She seems nice, really nice. And God help me if I know why, but I think she may even like you.”
Wyatt ignored the jab and continued to surf the cable channels.
“The entire town has turned out to support her event, Wyatt. It’s a good cause. Don’t you think you could get over what’s in the past and take a chance on this girl?”
“I will when I’m good and ready,” Wyatt answered. Dalton meant well, he knew, but Wyatt’s head was still at battle with his heart. Her couldn’t handle that kind of hurt again.
“She’s not Jessie. And she sure as hell isn’t Eloise.”
Wyatt kept his eyes on the screen, punching the button without thought, without caring what was on. Sadie lay on the couch beside him. She plopped her chin in his lap and sighed. “My sentiments, exactly, girl,” he muttered to the canine.
“Fine, you fool. Go ahead and sit here. Feel fuckin’ sorry for yourself about stuff that happened a long time ago. Meantime, Rein and I are headed to Dusty’s to let Aimee know she has the support of at least two of the
men
from the Last Hope Ranch.”
His emphasis on “men” was not lost on Wyatt, who bounded to his feet to issue his brother a warning, but the front door slammed before he could open his mouth. Wyatt found himself alone, staring at the door. He plopped back on the couch, and accidentally roused Sadie from her slumber. She groaned, crept off the sofa, and padded to her bed near the fireplace.
He picked up the remote again and pointed it toward the television.
Possibility gives us a future of precious moments
.
The line from one of her poems popped into his brain. His thumb hit the channel button and an image of a home-shopping show appeared. The thought occurred to him that he could sit at home all night, stubborn and miserable, and eventually wonder what moves Dalton might be using on Aimee. Or he could go make an appearance, support her cause, and maybe bring her home with him tonight, where in private, they could hash out whatever was going between them. He shut off the television, unplugged the tree, and closed the fireplace doors. “Keep an eye on things.” He pointed at Sadie. He looked down at his stained T-shirt and struggled to pull it over his head as he headed to the bedroom to clean up.
Thirty minutes later, smelling like God’s gift to women, Wyatt pulled his truck into a spot he saw open up in the crowded lot. He hadn’t been to the bar in a long time, but he couldn’t remember it ever being this packed. The place must be overflowing to the back patio. His boots crunched on the snow-laden gravel and a time or two he pondered the wisdom of his idea. A roar of applause from inside caught his attention, and he climbed the steps of the front porch like a man headed to the gallows. With a deep breath, he yanked open the door and a blast of music and hot air smacked him in the face. Despite Dusty’s current no-smoking policy, the aging floor and ceiling, warmed by numerous bodies, still made it smell the same. He stepped inside the door, took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimly lit interior, and fought off an immediate rush of painful memories. He stood frozen in his spot, people milling around him. He recognized very few and debated whether this was a good idea. His gaze was drawn to the stage, where some guy attempted to sing a song that he obviously didn’t know. However, determined to do what he needed to do for Aimee, he spotted a cover-charge jar, pulled out a ten, and stuffed it in with the wad of bills. He scanned the room looking for Rein and Dalton. Most of the tables and booths were full, as was every seat at the bar. While he kept an eye peeled for Aimee, he spotted his brothers at a booth on the opposite side of the room. He started toward them and got stopped by Michael and his wife, Rebecca.