Читать книгу Winning Heart - Laura Browning - Страница 6

Chapter 2

“Wynter.” Someone shook her shoulder. “Wynter O’Reilly.”

“Wythe?” she mumbled as she struggled awake.

“Nelson Anderson.”

Wynter’s eyes snapped open, and she struggled to focus on the man leaning over her. His scent teased her nostrils. Leather, horses, spice. She shook her head and stared into those midnight-blue eyes. Panic surged. “I—I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”

Anderson grunted and grimaced as he straightened.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Almost midnight. Shouldn’t you be home in bed?”

“Yeah. I was just drying some blankets,” she lied. “I’ll finish then be on my way.”

Anderson seemed content to wait while she went into the adjacent laundry room. Probably didn’t trust her, she thought. She grabbed the rest of the laundry and the sleeping bag. What on earth was she going to do now? She couldn’t very well walk back into the tack room with the stuff, so she looked around and found an empty cabinet next to the sink. It would have to do. She would sleep inside the truck tonight. Wynter stuffed everything in the cabinet and then smiled uneasily as she returned to the main tack room. Anderson watched her with intense blue eyes.

“I’ll walk you out to your truck.”

“You don’t need to,” Wynter assured him, eyes darting to the cane.

“My doctors tell me the exercise helps, so humor me.” His lean face twisted.

She swallowed and looked away, anywhere but right at him. “Yes, sir.”

Wynter gathered the papers together. She noticed him studying her, but he said nothing when she stood back up, holding the papers against her chest.

“Ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

He stiffened for a moment but didn’t say a word while he limped toward the door. Wynter followed. He held the door open, and she felt herself blush. She ducked her head as she went past him. Wynter waited for him to turn off the lights before adjusting her pace to walk beside him. The silence stretched her nerves to the screaming point. When she reached the driver’s door of the small truck, she looked at him. Close up she had the feeling he wasn’t as old as he seemed, maybe somewhere around her mother’s age.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Anderson. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

His face relaxed. “It’s all right, Wynter.”

She nodded and climbed in the truck. To her horror, when she turned the key, the engine turned over again and again, but didn’t catch. He watched, and Wynter bit her lip. One glance at the gas gauge and she swallowed. Empty. It was what she feared.

“Anything wrong?” Anderson asked.

“I’m out of gas.” She smiled at the man looking in. “It’s okay. I’ll walk. It’s not far.

“Nonsense,” he stated. “It’s too late and too dark for you to walk along the road. I’ll take you home. My car’s in back of the office.” He started to turn away.

“No, really,” she insisted. “I…I like walking, and it’s not far…”

“Wynter,” Nelson Anderson warned, “you’re being ridiculous. I’ll take you home, and that’s the end of it.” He turned to limp toward the back of the office building.

Wynter swallowed when she climbed out of the truck. Her shoulders hunched as she dug her hands in her jeans pockets.

“Mr. Anderson?” He stopped, one eyebrow raised. She grimaced and scuffed her sneaker in the gravel.

“What?” he prompted.

“You can’t take me home.”

“Excuse me?” he asked as if unaccustomed to someone telling him what he could or could not do.

Wynter stared at him with defiance. “I don’t have a home.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t have a home,” she repeated, chin jutting. She didn’t like his tone. She was already embarrassed and humiliated.

He hobbled back. “Just where have you been living the past three days?” Those eyes again. Even in the dark his gaze shot sparks of blue fire.

She glanced at the truck.

“In your truck?” His tone was incredulous. “You’ve been sleeping in your truck since you started working here?”

Heat flooded her cheeks. What right did he have to take an attitude? Shoulders squared, she stared back.

“Yes. I have. Not all of us are as privileged as you or your clients.” She glared at him. “I can assure you, it hasn’t affected my work, so it’s none of your business where I sleep.”

He’d reached her side by this time. She turned to walk down the drive, but Anderson grabbed her wrist. A sudden vision of other hands grabbing, touching and bruising flashed through her head. She gasped and jerked away, but this time she wasn’t the one to fall. Anderson’s cane clattered when it hit the driveway. A grunt of pain followed when he struck the side of the truck. It was a moment in which time slowed to a crawl. In the glow from the security light mounted on the front of the barn, his face twisted with pain and he clutched at the side of the small truck.

“Damn it!” he swore while he struggled back up.

Wynter moved as though she had just unfrozen, scrambling to pick up the cane and rushing back to his side.

“Mr. Anderson?” she asked. She shook almost as much as he did. “I’m sorry!” She hated the frantic note of panic in her voice. She wasn’t sure if she was more concerned he might be hurt or he might fire her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she rushed on. “Are you okay? Can I help you?”

“Wynter.”

“Here’s your cane. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ll help you to your car. Then I’ll go. I—I’ll have to come back to get my truck in the morning.”

“Wynter.” His tone commanded. “Stop. What on earth are you talking about?”

“I’m fired, aren’t I?” she demanded.

His face softened, and blue eyes searched her face. “No, I’m not firing you. I know it was an accident, although I must say your reaction seemed a little extreme.” His expression questioned, and around him hung an air that said if she had something to share, he was a man who didn’t repeat confidences. She stared into that searching blue gaze and swallowed.

“I’m a bit jumpy. I’m sorry. It was something that happened, before I came here.”

His eyes narrowed. “Where you worked?”

“Their son, Payton.” When she said it, she noticed Anderson went still.

“What did he do?”

“It was following a hunt. I’d gone out to my truck to change out of my coveralls. All of a sudden he was there.” She stopped and swallowed.

“Go on.”

“He touched me…offered me money to…anyway, when I started to punch him, he grabbed hold of my wrist and twisted. I guess I kind of flashed back.”

“Did he hurt you?” Anderson’s voice was quiet.

She shook her head. “No. Not really. Wythe got there and took a hunt whip to him.”

“Wythe?”

“Oh. He whips in for Southard, but he’s friends with my mom and me.”

Anderson nodded. “Is that why you got fired?”

“Uh, no. Mr. Southard had already fired me. I laid a drag before the hunt that ended in his son’s brand new Mustang convertible. I gave them a great couple of miles before the scent ended at Payton’s car. Well, there were a lot of refusals at the hedge next to the house. And that was so funny because Payton’s girlfriend looked like a raccoon! And then, the top was down on the Mustang, and those hounds so trashed that car. They were all over the white leather upholstery like flies on sh...”

Wynter’s eyes snapped up when she heard a cough and she caught what looked like the faintest smile flashing across Anderson’s face.

“Shit,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear this.”

Wynter turned away, a hand to her face. Jeez, could she look like any more of a kid?

“Have you eaten anything today?” The question caught her off guard. She looked up to find his gaze focused on the empty juice bottles and nabs wrappers on the passenger side. He turned those dark intense eyes on her. “And don’t lie.”

She shut her mouth.

“Well?” he asked again.

“I—I ate some chips.”

“You haven’t left here today, so where did you get those?”

“None of your…” She saw the sudden glare and continued, “Out of the trash.”

“Christ!” he exclaimed and waved his hand at the trash in the truck. “Nabs and juice, and chips you got from the damn trash? Is that all you’ve eaten since you started work here?”

Wynter bristled. “And if it is? What business is it of yours? You’re my boss, not my father. As long as I do my work, what’s the big deal?”

“I’ll tell you what the big deal is,” Anderson snapped. “You’re as thin as a rake. You have dark circles under your eyes. Yes, you work hard. Thomas and I have seen that, but you can’t keep this up, Wynter. You’ll make yourself sick, get hurt, or hurt a horse or another person because you can’t perform. Thomas was ready to send you packing tomorrow because he’d pretty much decided the job was too much.”

“No! Look, I can do it! Please give me a chance. Once I get paid tomorrow, I’ll be able to get some food an—and I’ve found a room not far from here.”

“That’s enough, Wynter.” He looked so forbidding.

“No. Really.” Panic made her voice shake. She couldn’t go back now, not when she had everything lined up. It would all work, but she needed this job. Without it, there was no way to pay her living expenses so she could attend Duke.

“I’ll work harder.” Wynter hated begging. Tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them away. “I can handle the job. Please!”

He grabbed her shoulder with his free hand and shook her. “Wynter. No one’s firing you. Do you hear me? You can stay.”

She sucked in a deep breath and felt her cheeks burn again. Never had she experienced so much embarrassment in such a short period of time. And still he watched. She struggled to calm down. When the panic receded, exhaustion took over. It was late. She needed sleep to be back at work before dawn.

“Help me to my car, Wynter,” Nelson ordered in a tone that brooked no argument. “I’m taking you to the house. You will eat something and then you can bed down on a couch tonight. We’ll figure something else out tomorrow.”

She was too tired to argue.

Wynter noticed the Rolls Royce came equipped with hand controls to accommodate his bad right leg. She swallowed. She’d assumed he had suffered a fall or something, not that he was crippled. She stared out the window while they made the short trip up the drive.

The house stood on a hill behind the barns. It was screened from both the road and the barns by a grove of tall pine and cedar trees, so she had yet to get a good look at it. In the dark, she still didn’t, just the impression of its large outline as they rounded a bend in the driveway. Anderson pulled the car around a circular drive.

After he shifted the car into park, he said very matter-of-factly, “I need your help, Wynter.”

She scrambled out of the car and hurried around to the driver’s side. He leaned on her while he pulled himself up. She kept hold of his elbow while he negotiated the short ramp added to the front of the house. Tension radiated from him. Getting help must bother him a lot.

Her eyes widened when they entered the front hallway. Its vaulted ceiling opened to the second floor with a winding staircase curving up along the right side. As she stared, she felt like Little Orphan Annie with Daddy Warbucks. The steps were wide enough for three or four people to walk abreast. In the dim light from a lamp resting on a sideboard, she saw the black and white marble tiles that covered the floor. Family portraits hung around the hallway and lined the stairs. Wynter had never seen anything this ornate. Even the Southards’ and the Butlers’ homes were nothing compared to this house.

“Damn! It—it’s so big!” Wynter exclaimed before halting with an awkward grimace. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

Her boss smiled for the very first time, and it transformed his face, making him look years younger and much, much kinder. She stared at him. “You’re not old! You’re young!” she accused then gasped.

This time, he didn’t smile, he laughed. It was a rusty sound, as though he hadn’t done so in a long, long time.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. Ma’s forever telling me to keep my mouth shut.”

“Don’t worry about it, Wynter. We’re both tired. If you’ll go straight through the hallway you see in front of you, the kitchen’s at the back of the house. Help yourself. Mrs. Caudle always leaves plenty of sandwiches in the fridge. I’ll find a pillow. There’s a big couch in my study. It will be the door at the end of the hallway on your left when you leave the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Mr. Anderson.” She hurried past him, almost running down the hallway. She heard his slower, stilted gait and the tap of the cane while he followed as far as the hallway leading to the study.

She stepped through the doorway and into the kitchen. It was almost as big as the whole trailer she and her mom lived in. Because the overhead light cast only a slight glow over everything, Wynter thought it must work off a dimmer switch. Nowhere in the house was anything left dark. Was that because of Anderson’s limp?

She looked around. What her mama wouldn’t give for a kitchen like this. Stainless steel appliances gleamed in the work area, including one of the biggest refrigerators she’d ever laid eyes on. When she approached it, she ran tapered fingers over ice-smooth black marble countertops, and her gaze roamed warm, light oak cabinets. Her growling stomach reminded her of the true reason for the visit to the kitchen.

Wynter opened the refrigerator. Just as he had promised, a tray of wrapped sandwiches sat on the middle shelf. She grabbed one then made herself slow down. Ma would kill her if she saw her do such a thing. A pitcher of milk sat on the top shelf. She took it out and set it on the counter while she found a glass. She was already on a second glass and a second sandwich when Anderson stepped into the kitchen.

Her cheeks tingled with heat when his glance moved from the half pitcher of milk to the two sandwich wrappers lying next to a plate.

“Feel better now?”

She nodded, mouth full. At least she had remembered not to speak with food in her mouth. That was another thing Ma was always getting on her about.

“I’ll leave you. There’s a bathroom off the mudroom by the back door. Good night.”

Wynter gulped the bite of sandwich. “Thank you, sir,” she mumbled. “For everything.”

He nodded and limped away. What an odd man. He’d be a real hunk if he smiled more.