Читать книгу Montana Dreams - Jillian Hart - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Guilt wrapped around her as she faced the little boy checking the prices on the various egg cartons.

“This is the best price.” Simon slipped it into the basket. “I got a carton of milk, too. The generic stuff. We don’t have coupons for either of ’em.”

“That’s okay. We need bread and peanut butter next.” And ice cream, she remembered through the rattled terrain her brain had become.

Hunter. She wanted to get a better look at him and see how deep that rock-hardness went. He’d been tough but tender in their teen years, but it looked as though time had hardened him more.

Maybe he was too harsh for anyone to reach. She didn’t have to wonder if he’d married—he’d been very clear on his opinion of matrimony. Nothing but a ball and chain for a man and misery for a woman, he’d told her. There’s not one thing on earth that would ever make me do something that stupid.

Sure, he’d been twenty-two at the time and embittered by his father’s betrayals. She hadn’t seen, until too late, how she’d been attracted to a man similar to her father—too remote and unfeeling to ever soften, a man who became more unreachable as the years went by.

Her heart broke a little walking away.

“Mom.” Simon held up a loaf of bread. “Score.”

“Good job.” She grabbed a pint of ice cream, not bothering to check her coupons.

“Mom?” Simon clunked a jar of peanut butter into the cart. “What else?”

“Crackers.” She plucked several cans of her dad’s favorite soup off the display.

“Roger, captain!” Simon made a jet-engine sound as he spun the cart around and headed off for the saltines at the end of the aisle.

Her mission had changed—to get everything they needed and get out of the store before Hunter recognized her.

“Okay, we’ve got everything, right?” Simon dumped a box in the cart. There wasn’t much there, just enough food to get them by for a couple of days. It would have to do.

“That’s it for this run. Let’s get out of here.” She grabbed the cart by the basket to get Simon moving faster.

“Howdy there,” a friendly older lady Millie didn’t know tossed them a genuine smile from behind her register. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” She unloaded her cart as fast as she could, breathing a sigh of relief when she dropped the last item—the cracker box—onto the conveyer belt. Simon shoved the cart through while she unzipped her purse.

“Did you find everything all right?” The checker scanned in each item with a beep. Her name tag read “Enid.”

“We did.” The familiar beat of cowboy boots on the tile distracted her. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder as Hunter’s quick, no-nonsense cadence knelled louder.

He was coming this way. Panic licked through her. A wheel squeaked as his cart pulled in behind her. Her skin prickled like a storm the instant before lightning struck as Hunter began unloading his cart.

At least he hasn’t recognized me yet. She sorted through her coupon envelope, doing her best not to look. He still smelled the same—like pine, hay and summer sun. Her uncooperative gaze slid sideways to sneak a peek. A black T-shirt hugged his powerful physique that had matured impressively. Muscles rippled as he dumped paper plates, paper towels and hamburger buns onto the conveyer, working fast, concentrating solely on his task. Not a man to look around—the Hunter she’d always known.

“Oh, I have coupons,” she told Enid and handed over the cluster.

“Okay, deary.” The older lady sorted through them before she scanned them in, one by one.

Hunter’s foot tapped impatiently. He’d finished unloading his cart. She could feel him standing behind her, radiating heat and pent-up male energy.

Every breath she took was torture. Knowing Hunter, his mind was probably somewhere else. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her, or—did she dare hope?—recognize her. Was that too much to ask?

“Sorry, deary. This one’s past date.” Enid handed over one of the coupons.

She feared the attention would draw Hunter’s scrutiny. Her hand shook as she took back the coupon. Please, don’t recognize me, she prayed.

“That’ll be seventeen oh three.”

Her hands shook so badly that she had trouble pulling out dollar bills. It took a beat before she realized her budget had been fifteen dollars. She searched through her change, but didn’t have it. Heat flooded her face. “Uh, can you take off the box of crackers?”

“Sure thing.” Enid kindly took back the box and beeped it over the scanner.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Hunter flipped two dollars onto the conveyer belt. “Enid, take it. I’m done with waiting—”

She felt his gaze rake over her like a cold hard punch. He froze, finally really looking at her. Recognition snapped through him as his entire body went rigid. His jaw dropped, leaving the rest of his thoughts unspoken.

“Hi, Millie,” someone called out from behind his big hulking presence. Hunter’s brother, Luke, peered over to smile at her. “Good to see you in town again. How’s your dad?”

Hunter kept staring at her blankly, stiff with shock. She couldn’t help maneuvering a little, trying to hide Simon from him. It was easy to lift her chin, holding on to her dignity for all she was worth and push away Hunter’s two dollars. They lay awkwardly on the conveyer belt, their crumpled ends ruffling in the breeze from the air conditioner.

“Dad’s holding his own, but it’s bad, I guess.” She bowed her head to count out her money. “They caught it way too late to do anything.”

“Word has gotten around. The whole congregation is praying for him.”

“Thanks, Luke.” She handed exact change to Enid. “If anyone needs prayers, it’s my dad. It was nice seeing you.”

She seized her receipt, turned her back on Hunter and grabbed her single bag of groceries from the end of the check stand. Back straight, she followed her son to the rows of carts near the door.

Don’t look back, she told herself firmly. She didn’t need one last look at the man. She’d learned all she needed to in his shocked and silent stare. He’d been traumatized seeing her—they shared that in common. Not that she’d held even the faintest hope of a friendly reunion. No, not after the way they’d left things. But she hadn’t expected him to look at her with horror either.

“Mom, I’ll carry that.” Simon left the cart neatly with the others and tromped over to take the groceries from her. “Is there any chance Grandpa has neighbor kids my age?”

“I have no idea. I’ll give Myra a call when we get home. She knows everyone around here.” Her feet may be carrying her forward, but her mind remained with the man dressed in black. She could feel Hunter’s gaze as she trailed her son into the ovenlike heat of summer.

Suddenly aware of her wash-worn clothes and the hair she hadn’t fussed with before leaving the house, she headed toward the truck. She could still feel Hunter’s gaze as she crossed the lot—a cold gaze, when it had once been so loving. Why did that still hurt so much?

Their first meeting could have gone worse. She dug the keys out of her purse. Thank You, Father, for that.

* * *

Millie? Hunter couldn’t get over the shock watching her walk away. Millie was back?

“Hunter, move along, we’re waiting.” Luke nudged his brother, his tone teasing.

Fine, he deserved that. He hadn’t meant to be impatient; shopping always put him in a mood. The automatic doors opened and closed. Millie and the child were out of the building but not out of sight of the long front windows where a rusty, thirty-year-old Ford waited for them. It had taken a while to recognize her because she’d changed so much.

“Are you all right?” Luke asked, kindly, always a good brother.

Hunter cleared his throat and gave his cart a shove forward. He wanted to look unaffected, as if seeing Millie didn’t bother him one bit. He was tough. No woman was going to bring him to his knees. He’d learned a long time ago the best way to protect yourself from a broken heart was not to have one.

Not that that was the truth, but he didn’t have to admit it, did he?

Because he didn’t trust his voice, he said nothing and faced Enid with a nod. Maybe Luke would get the hint and go back to talking with his girlfriend. Over the beep-beep of the scanner he watched Millie disappear behind the far side of the pickup—probably getting the door for her kid.

That kid. Agony tore through him at the thought of Millie’s child. No, he couldn’t think about her married to another man. Too painful. As he swiped his card and punched in his PIN, his gaze stayed stuck to the window.

Millie. She stepped into view, far from the bright, sunny girl he’d loved so deeply that she outshone everything in his life—every other thing. There had been only her, beautiful and precious, and his great overwhelming love for her.

“That’ll be eighty-seven dollars and forty-six cents.” Enid punched a button and her cash register spat out his receipt. “Would you like paper or plastic?”

“Whatever.” He didn’t care—he’d forgotten the reusable bags again. He hardly noticed the box boy moving in to bag his purchases. All he could see was Millie climbing into her dad’s rusty old pickup. What had happened to the bounce in her step? To her wide, beaming smile that made everyone around her smile, too, unable to help themselves?

“Out of the way, you’re holding up the line.” Judging by the laughter in Luke’s voice, he was enjoying this.

“I don’t want to get back with her if that’s what you think.” He rolled his eyes, glad Luke couldn’t read his thoughts. Millie, on her own, with a child? Nothing angered him more than a mother on her own struggling to pay for groceries. Where were the fathers? Why weren’t they better men? A man takes care of his family, that’s the way it was supposed to be.

Sure, it was an old issue with him. It brought back memories of how hard their dad had been on Mom. Never reliable, always out gambling or drinking, always shirking his responsibilities. Hunter’s guts twisted up thinking Millie’s life obviously hadn’t turned out much different. There hadn’t been a wedding ring on her left hand.

He’d checked.

“I’ll see you back at the ranch.” It wasn’t easy to unclamp his jaw. He took charge of his cart and steered it toward the automatic doors. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Millie—still slim and graceful—hop onto the seat. When she closed the door, he lost sight of her. Too much glare on the side window.

She wasn’t going anywhere in that truck, or didn’t she know it? He frowned, arrowing his cart at his vehicle, parked two spaces away from the rusted heap Whip Wilson should have junked long ago. While Hunter was sorry the man was dying, he should have at least told his daughter about the barely working transmission. Whip had never been a good dad either.

Not your business, Hunter, he told himself passing by at top speed. The cart rattled and bucked in protest, but minding his own business turned out to be impossible. Behind him, the rusted pickup’s engine coughed to life, pistons misfiring. He yanked the cart to a stop, wedging it against the side of his truck so it wouldn’t roll away. Disappointed in himself—a truly tough man, one who was completely over a breakup—would put his groceries in the truck and drive away.

But did he?

No, you are a fool, Hunter McKaslin. His feet took him around to the driver’s side of Millie’s truck. She’d rolled down the window, concentrating so hard on trying to figure out what was wrong, frowned brow, pursed lips, and he made himself like steel. Not going to notice how pretty she was.

Surprised, she jerked in her seat. “Hunter. You about gave me a heart attack. What are you doing sneaking up on me?”

“I wish I knew.” He leaned his forearms against the hot metal door, peering in at her. “Guess Whip should have told you the truck doesn’t have Reverse.”

“What do you mean? It says R right here on the gearshift.” She blew out a huff of frustration. “Of course it has Reverse. It just doesn’t want to go into Reverse.”

“Whip’s been driving around without Reverse for a good year.” Hard times had come to the Wilson spread, where Hunter had started working right out of high school. While he wasn’t fond of Whip, the old man had taught him a lot about running a successful dairy. He was sorry for the Wilsons’ misfortune. “You’ll have to keep that in mind next time you’re parking. Want me to give you a push?”

“No.” The word popped out, showing Millie’s stubborn side, which still drove him crazy. He gritted his teeth until his molars hurt.

“Just put it in Neutral and make sure the parking brake is off.” He shoved away from the door, turning his back on her protests. Did she think he liked this either? No, not one bit. His heart felt ripped open looking at her, but he held himself as hard as stone. Maybe that way he wouldn’t feel the pain or the loss.

Or the fact that some other man’s son sat beside her, looking at him with owlish eyes.

Don’t think about the kid, he told himself, lock-jawed. Millie’s face drew him—pinched and worried behind the glass. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the wide blue eyes a man could fall into or the sweet set of her mouth that no longer smiled. His chest felt tight and achy wondering why.

Not your business. He planted his hands on the hood, braced his back and put some muscle into it. The truck eked backward a few slow inches before it gained momentum. Through the window shield, the dark, sleek cascade of Millie’s hair flipped as she looked over her shoulder, one slim hand on the steering wheel.

“There.” He let go, stepped back and watched the decrepit vehicle roll a few more feet. “Good luck with that truck.”

“Thanks, I need that and a whole lot of prayer.” She studied him through the window frame, the breeze tossing the ends of her soft hair.

She was definitely changed from the Millie he’d known a decade ago. A stab of grief settled deep in his chest for the girl she’d been, the laughing girl who he could no longer see in the serious-eyed woman. She nervously folded a flyaway lock of rich brown hair behind one ear.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Her chin went up in either a show of stubbornness or a statement of pride, but her expressive eyes shone with hurt.

This wasn’t easy for her either. That helped. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to let go of the stress and the old wounds between them. “Prayer, huh? The Millie I used to know didn’t pray.”

“I do now.” She dipped her chin as something private and vulnerable passed across her face, and he wondered at it. He opened his mouth to ask her what had happened, but instinct held him back.

Wouldn’t that open a can of worms, one he wasn’t interested in? Millie had been the one to leave him. She’d broken it off. She’d fled him, obviously for someone better. He tamped down the strike of agony and kept his eyes on her—only on her—and not the boy sitting beside her. She’d obviously left him for another man, just as her father had said.

“I’m a praying man these days. Surprises you, right?” He tossed her an easy grin, one that said he wasn’t hurting and that he didn’t care one whit that she’d left him. Not true, but a man had his pride.

“Absolutely. I would never have guessed independent, trust-no-one Hunter McKaslin would become a man of faith.” A hint of a smile, and only a hint, touched the corners of her mouth.

“Miracles do happen.”

“Guess you’re proof of that.” No twinkle gleamed in her eyes. Only the faintest warmth of humor touched her voice, which had once been so bright.

Only hard times could do that to someone. He steeled his spine, fighting the natural need to care about her. An old habit, that was all. It didn’t mean a thing. Just like it didn’t mean anything wanting to go to her and try to brush the worry off her face. He jammed his hands in his pockets instead. “I’m sorry about your father. He isn’t an easy man.”

“No, he isn’t.”

“But he taught me what I know. I wouldn’t have a successful dairy if it wasn’t for him and Milton.” He swallowed hard, warring with himself. The smart thing to do was to tip his hat and walk away and pray he never saw the woman again. But was it the right thing to do?

“Oh, you did get your own dairy?” She tipped her head slightly, and a sleek dark lock of hair tumbled from behind her ear and back into her eyes. She shoved it away impatiently and the corners of her mouth turned upward into a genuine smile. “Hunter, I’m so happy for you. It’s what you always wanted.”

“Luke and I run it together.” He heard the rattle of a cart and the murmur of voices. When he checked over his shoulder, he spotted his brother and his girlfriend emerging from the store, pushing a loaded cart. “I’ve got to go. We’re having a family barbecue.”

“Sounds like fun. I got an email from Brooke last week that I’ve been meaning to answer, but no time.” She gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I hear she got married.”

“She did. I’ll tell my sister you said hi.” He took a step back, chest swelling with a sense of loss he couldn’t explain. There had never been any might-have-beens when it came to him and Millie. She hadn’t wanted him.

Not that he could honestly blame her for that, not completely. She’d needed what he hadn’t been able to give—and never would. “Let me know if Whip needs help. Word has it he’s not up to managing the dairy.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it.” The smile vanished, her chin went up and pure hurt shone in her eyes. The echoes of that hurt filled him as she put the truck in gear and drove away, the engine misfiring.

“Hey, are you okay?” Luke called out.

“Yeah, fine.” He waved away his brother’s concern, doing his best to hide his sorrow. Some things weren’t meant to be—he and Millie were one of them.