Читать книгу Wyatt's Most Wanted Wife - Sandra Steffen, Sandra Steffen - Страница 8

Sheriff Wyatt McCully pulled the brim of his white Stetson lower on his forehead and peered into the far corners of the crowded old diner. He wasn’t sure how the ordinary Tuesday town meeting had turned into a party. One minute he’d been sitting in the back room with the other members of the town council, groaning along with everyone else as Isabell Pruitt, the leader of the Ladies Aid Society self-righteously rose to her feet. For months the old prude had been spouting that ill would come of the ad the local boys had placed in the papers to lure women to their corner of South Dakota, and tonight had been no exception. Just when Wyatt thought Isabell would never run out of wind, someone had called to adjourn and a party had broken out.

Normally he enjoyed the small-town crowd. But tonight he would have preferred a more private setting.

Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his legs out underneath the small table and crossed his arms. Voices rose, and laughter echoed from one end of the diner to the other. The bachelors of Jasper Gulch were noisier and bawdier than usual. He figured they had good reason to be cheerful. Yesterday’s rain had put an end to the worst drought in twenty-two years. Luke Carson’s engagement had ended a similar dry spell among the Jasper Gents. Wyatt was happy enough about both of those things, but they didn’t account for the sense of urgency driving him to distraction tonight.

Laughter, deep and rich and feminine, drew his gaze. The crowd parted, awarding him a clear view of the woman who was responsible for the rousing pull at his insides. It obliterated every coherent thought in his head, but it came as no surprise. It had been pulsing like a blip of radar ever since Lisa Markman had set foot in town a month ago.

The woman had a flirty walk, an infectious grin and a wink that could stop a hundred-and-seventy-five-pound man in his tracks. Wyatt was normally the most patient man in the county, but his patience was wearing thin. He was getting mighty tired of sitting back while every bachelor in Jasper Gulch vied for her affections. Push had come to shove. It was time for Wyatt McCully to make his move.

He stood and surveyed the room. Steadily making his way around the small groups of people blocking his path, he gave a brief nod now and then. But most of his attention was trained on the woman he intended to meet.

Lisa’s back was to him, and although he had to admit he preferred a woman who was walking toward him, he couldn’t find fault with the way she looked from behind. There wasn’t another woman in town with hair as dark as hers. There wasn’t another woman in town who could make a simple pair of jeans and a red Western shirt look like something straight out of a man’s fantasies, either. It was probably just as well that the noise drowned out the rasp of his deeply drawn breath, but he doubted there was anything that could have chased away the anticipation lengthening his stride.

“Look, Opal, it’s Wyatt McCully.”

“Why, yes, Isabell, yes, it is.”

Wyatt jerked to a stop, barely managing to keep from running headlong into the two gray-haired women who’d planted themselves directly in his path. With a grudging tip of his head, he said, “Evening, ladies.”

“Why, isn’t he just the most polite young man, Opal?”

“Yes, Isabell, I do believe he is. I was just saying as much to my Louetta a few minutes ago.”

Wyatt shifted to the right and his attention strayed, his eyes automatically picking Lisa out of the crowd. Not that it was difficult With the blip of radar steadily working its way lower in his body, he could have found her in the dark.

“Have you had a chance to talk to Louetta lately, Wyatt? She’s sitting at that table right over there.”

He cast a perfunctory glance at Opal Graham’s daughter who waved shyly then proceeded to blush three shades of red. He hadn’t actually spoken to Louetta lately. Back in high school, the boys had voted her The Girl Most Likely Not To.

“She’s a lovely girl, don’t you think?” Isabell asked.

Louetta? Lovely? The girl was thirty-three years old. If she had any curves, they were hidden underneath high necklines and baggy clothes. Wyatt had no idea why Isabell was singing her praises to him, but when Lisa’s throaty laughter carried to his ears again, he didn’t stay long enough to find out. Ignoring Isabell’s affronted huff, he plowed his way to the front of the room.

He was only six steps away when he noticed the coffee carafe in Lisa’s right hand, only two steps away when she finished filling his grandfather’s cup and gave him a gentle nudge. “Cletus McCully, you must have been a real lady-killer in your day.”

“Who says my day is over?”

“Why, Cletus, are you flirting with me?”

“I see I ain’t losin’ my touch.”

Laughing, Lisa eased away from the table. Wyatt might not have appreciated his grandfather’s flirting, but he’d have to be out of his mind not to enjoy the gentle brush of Lisa’s hip against his thigh. His hands automatically went to her waist, and for one brief moment her gaze swung to his. Her laughter drained away, leaving behind the most amazing half smile.

Lisa Markman swallowed. Hard. She’d been in South Dakota a month, but this was the first time she’d gotten an up-close-and-personal look at Wyatt McCully’s lean face. The fact that she’d been keeping her distance hadn’t exactly been a coincidence. She’d noticed him watching her now and then, and she knew what his look did to her. She wasn’t a snob, but she wasn’t stupid, either. She’d come to this town that had advertised for women, because it seemed like the perfect place to start over, to find a man to love, someone like her—a little outspoken, a little beaten up by life. The local sheriff with his sterling badge and reputation to match simply wasn’t the man for her. It was too bad, too. She’d come across a lot of men in her day, but she hadn’t met many as appealing to her as the tall, lean, fair-haired Wyatt McCully.

A primitive warning sounded in her ears, bringing her to her senses. She couldn’t have been more relieved when Bonnie Trumble, who owned the Clip & Curl down the street, signaled for more coffee at a table a few feet away. Lisa filled the empty cup and topped off another.

“You’re very good at that.”

She turned slowly. Facing Wyatt, she told herself he was referring to her coffee-pouring abilities. He hadn’t said or done anything to make her think he’d meant something else by his simple words of praise. In all fairness it wasn’t his fault her imagination had given his statement another meaning. It was his voice. No man should be allowed to own such a voice, let alone use it as if it was meant for her ears alone.

Trying to put an end to the awareness arcing between them, she motioned to the crowd. “Although I’m only helping your sister tonight, I’ve done more waitressing than I care to think about. Believe me, I have the fallen arches to prove it.”

If she could have called back her words, she would have. Maybe then his gaze wouldn’t have taken the slow route to her feet, resting on forbidden places along the way. Maybe then she wouldn’t have been so aware of the swooping pull on her insides. But she was aware, and when the light touched upon Wyatt’s white cowboy hat, she knew she had to put an end to it, here and now.

She stepped to one side and made a show of glancing around. “I’d better get busy. That sister of yours cracks a mean whip.”

His forward motion was sure and easy, and so was his smile. Both sent her thoughts into a tailspin.

“You must know that Mel’s bark is worse than her bite. This party’s going to break up any minute. I just heard some of the boys talking about moving it over to the Crazy Horse. What do you say we duck out the back door and drive into Pierre for dinner?”

“Dinner?”

He smiled again, and danged if her gaze didn’t get stuck on his mouth. There was a long pause during which she fought for self-control. Her mind cleared gradually, and her determination returned. If there was one thing her life had given her, it was plenty of practice handling touchy situations. Giving him a wink she’d perfected years ago, she said, “Thanks, Sheriff, but I don’t think that would be a very good idea. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it looks as if Melody and Jillian want to talk to me about something.”

Without another word, she ducked into the crowd, making a beeline for the front of the room. Wyatt clamped his mouth shut and watched her go.

He hadn’t realized he wasn’t alone until Cletus’s crotchety voice cut into his thoughts. “So, things didn’t quite come off without a hitch, eh, boy?”

With Lisa’s reply sitting on his ego like a box of rocks, Wyatt shot his grandfather a penetrating look. “Whatever gives you that idea?”

Cletus hooked his thumbs through his suspenders and slowly shook his head. “It could have something to do with the fact that you look like a stallion with a sore—”

Wyatt heard Isabell’s and Opal’s dramatic gasps, so he wasn’t surprised when Cletus said, “Hoof,” instead of what he’d probably intended to say. “Well?” his grandfather asked, turning his back on the two eavesdroppers and lowering his voice. “Did you ask her?”

“I asked her.”

“And?”

“She turned me down.”

Cletus snapped his suspenders and shook his head. “Jumpin’ catfish, she ain’t makin’ it easy on ya, that’s for sure.”

Wyatt didn’t reply. Cletus had raised him, and if there was one thing he was used to, it was his grandfather’s huge understatements. Besides, Cletus was right. Lisa wasn’t making it easy on him. In fact, she was making it next to impossible.

A spoon jangled on a glass, drawing everyone’s attention to the front of the room where Lisa and her best friend were standing. “Can I have your attention, please?” Lisa called.

At least twenty people said, “Shh.” Twenty more yelled, “Quiet,” but it took a two-fingered whistle from Wyatt’s sister, Mel, to silence everyone enough for Lisa to be heard.

“Before Luke whisks Jillian out of here tonight—to make wedding plans, of course—I’d like to propose a toast.”

The room echoed with resounding chuckles from the local bachelors. Everybody knew Luke Carson, and nobody believed for a minute that he had wedding plans on his mind tonight. Luke was Wyatt’s best friend. Judging from the glowing expression on Jillian’s face, he was also a lucky man. Wyatt had a sudden, burning desire to arrest somebody. If there wasn’t a law against that kind of happiness, there ought to be.

Raising her pot of coffee, Lisa said, “To Luke and Jillian, the first couple to become engaged in Jasper Gulch in more than five years.”

One of the local boys shouted, “The first but not the last.”

“I’m plannin’ on being next,” someone else called.

“Right after me.”

“In your dreams.”

“If I’m dreaming these days, it ain’t about you.”

When the ensuing argument died down, Jillian Daniels pushed her wavy red hair behind her shoulders and raised her own glass. “I’d like to propose a toast, too. To Lisa Markman, the best sport in the world. After all, it was her idea to move to a town that advertised for women, her idea to actively search for Mr. Right. She’s systematically dated every man who’s asked her, yet, like the true friend she is, she’s genuinely happy for Luke and me.”

Hearty chuckles and guffaws nearly raised the roof. Wyatt glanced at Lisa, and he couldn’t join in. His heart beat a steady rhythm that had nothing to do with laughter. Just when he was convinced she wasn’t going to look his way, her gaze met his. She went perfectly still, and so did he. Awareness flickered in her eyes, sending a flush to Wyatt’s face and chest that had nothing to do with the August temperatures. Something incredible made its way through him. Before he could put a name to it, Luke’s brother, Clayt, said something to Jillian and Lisa, and the moment broke.

Tipping his hat back with one finger, Clayt raised his voice so that it could be heard from one end of the diner to the other. “I just want to remind everybody to keep the first Saturday in September open. The town council is hosting a barbecue in Luke and Jillian’s honor, and everyone’s invited.”

Jillian beamed, and Lisa didn’t look at Wyatt again. He knew, because he watched her for a long time. Wondering if he could have been mistaken about what he thought had passed between them, he finally turned away. Nursing a sore ego, he headed for his quiet corner in the back of the room.

“Lisa, are you okay?”

Lisa peered through wispy bangs that were on the verge of being too long, and found Jillian Daniels watching her closely from the other side of the breakfast table. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Seemingly lost in thought, Jillian rose to her feet and carried her cereal bowl to the sink. “I don’t know,” she said after she turned the water off and placed the bowl upside down in the drainer. “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’ve sighed three times in the past five minutes.”

“I have not.”

“Yes, you have.”

“Jillian, I couldn’t possibly have sighed three times in the past five minutes.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Lisa started to smile, thinking this was more like it.

“Maybe it was four times.”

Shaking her head, Lisa carried her own cereal bowl to the sink. When she glanced at her friend again, Jillian was leaning against the counter, in the house they’d shared since moving from Wisconsin earlier in the summer. Jillian’s arms were crossed, her gaze unwavering. It was a stance Lisa knew well. Jillian Daniels had long red hair, soft blue eyes and a stubborn streak a mile wide. Although she rarely admitted it out loud, it was one of the things Lisa had always been the most thankful for. Without it, Jillian never would have been able to talk her into going to live with Ivy Pennington all those years ago, and Lisa might never have stopped running.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Jillian asked in a quiet voice.

Tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, Lisa shifted her weight to one hip and said, “Does Luke know how persistent you can be?”

“Believe me, he knows. Luke is so incredible. Love is so incredible. No wonder you wanted to move out here and experience this.”

“Yes, well, you’re just lucky you’re my best friend. Otherwise, I’d be mad at you for nabbing the most eligible bachelor in Jasper Gulch.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Pu-lease.”

“Then my engagement to Luke doesn’t have anything to do with those sighs of yours and the fact that you were so quiet last night and again this morning?”

The reason for Lisa’s quietude and her sighs shimmered across her mind. She didn’t want to think about Wyatt McCully, but she couldn’t seem to get the expression deep in his eyes and the clear-cut lines in his face out of her head.

She glanced at her friend and found Jillian watching her closely. She’d been on the receiving end of Jillian’s treasured smiles a thousand times, which was just about how many whispered secrets they’d shared over the years. Their friendship went back a long time, through petty misunder-standings, life-altering heartaches and far-reaching dreams. Lisa knew she could tell Jillian anything. She even knew that Jillian would probably say that whatever had taken place between her and Wyatt last night had been fate. Lisa might have believed in fate, but she certainly didn’t rely on it. Determination was ten times more powerful, and Lisa was determined to put Wyatt McCully out of her mind, once and for all. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Of the sixty-two bachelors in Jasper Gulch, there were still forty-nine she hadn’t dated. As far as she could tell, only one of them wore a white cowboy hat and had a reputation just as pure. That left forty-eight men to choose from and only one to steer clear of.

“Well?”

Her friend’s voice drew Lisa from her thoughts. Jillian looked as if she was waiting for an answer, which would have been okay if Lisa could have remembered the question. Ducking her head slightly, she said, “What were we talking about again?”

Jillian spun around. “I knew it. You are upset about my engagement to Luke.”

Lisa rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Tell me you don’t really believe I have a thing for your fiancé.”

“You did go out with him.”

“Only because you insisted. I already told you we talked about you all evening,” Lisa said, remembering the date she’d gone on with Luke Carson a few weeks ago. The man had been attractive and funny and so deeply in love with Jillian they really hadn’t talked about much else.

“Then you really don’t have strong feelings for Luke?” Jillian asked slowly.

“Of course not. Now would you please go start the car so we can both get to work?”

Jillian looked at her for several seconds. Seemingly satisfied that Lisa was telling the truth, she reached for her purse and hurried into the living room.

“Jillian?”

The other woman stopped at the front door and turned around, “What?” written all over her face.

“Would you give Luke up if I asked you to?”

Jillian had the grace to pretend to think about it before letting loose a smile bright enough to light up the room. “Not on your life, sister.”

Lisa laughed and Jillian grinned then slipped through the screen door. Feeling better than she had all morning, Lisa checked the stove, grabbed her purse and raincoat, and followed. She was in the process of pulling the front door shut behind her when Jillian’s voice rang out from several feet away.

“Where did you park the car last night?”

Lisa walked forward, down the steps and across the sidewalk. She didn’t stop until she reached the exact spot in the driveway where she’d left her car the previous night. Except for a few shallow puddles, the driveway was empty. “I parked it right here where I always do.”

“That’s what I thought. It’s gone. Somebody must have taken it.”

Lisa turned in a circle. “I’ll be danged.”

“What are you doing to do?” Jillian asked.

Gauging the clouds hanging low in the sky, Lisa said, “I’m not sure, but if my new clothing store is going to be a success, I need my car to pick up the new fall merchandise in Pierre this afternoon. For now, it looks like we’re walking to work.”

Spinning around, she went inside for an umbrella.

“Oooo-eee. It’s really coming down out there.”

Wyatt glanced up in time to see Luke Carson close the door behind him and shake the water from his black Stetson. With a jauntiness one rarely associated with a Carson, he called, “Hey, Wyatt, do you have any more of that coffee?”

Wyatt scribbled something on a notepad, then shoved the traffic ticket he’d issued last night into a folder, wondering when his office had turned into one of those coffeehouses they had in the city. Oblivious to his friend’s dark mood, Luke whisked a chair away from the wall and straddled it. Crossing his arms along the top, he grinned inanely at nobody in particular.

Wyatt glanced at the other Carson brother, who was slouched in stony silence in the chair next to the desk. Meeting Wyatt’s gaze, Clayt shook his head and spoke for the first time in fifteen minutes. “He’s been like this ever since Jillian agreed to marry him two days ago.”

“Been like what?” Luke asked with entirely too much wonder in his voice.

Clayt didn’t have to speak. The sardonic lift of his eye-brows and the tilt of his head said it all.

Wyatt pushed his chair away from his desk and strode to the filing cabinet, where he sloshed coffee into three cups, wondering what it would take to get a little privacy around here. People claimed misery loved company, but he would have preferred to sulk alone. That was next to impossible in Jasper Gulch. He should know. He’d tried it last night. He really had had every intention of nursing his sore ego in his own quiet corner in the diner. But when he’d gotten back to his table, his corner hadn’t been quiet anymore. He’d taken one look at the area ranchers and cowboys he’d grown up with and had hightailed it over to the Crazy Horse Saloon. Glancing at the two men taking up space in his small office right now, he realized he wasn’t having much better luck this morning.

“Ah,” Luke said, after taking his first sip of coffee. “Thick as tar. Just the way I like it.”

Clayt slunk lower in his chair and shook his head all over again. Wyatt almost grinned for the first time since yesterday.

Luke and Clayt Carson were a year apart in age and shared a passing family resemblance that included dark hair, gray eyes and tanned skin pulled taut over high cheekbones and angular chins. Their tall, lanky builds had come from the same gene pool, but the good mood Luke was in today didn’t run in the family.

Wyatt knew both of these men like the backs of his hands. He’d been there when Clayt had gotten married ten years ago. He’d been there when his wife had left him two years later, too. Wyatt was the first person Luke had told about his decision to become a vet instead of a partner on the family ranch. Technically, only Luke and Clayt were blood related, but Wyatt had been in and out of the Carson house so often while he was growing up he might as well have been a third brother, blond hair, brown eyes and all.

“So,” Luke said cheerfully. “What’s new?”

Clayt slanted Wyatt a meaningful look. “I liked him a lot better when he was ornery, didn’t you?”

Luke laughed. “Come on, you two. I’m going to marry the most beautiful woman in Jasper Gulch. You should be happy for me. Who knows, maybe one of you will get lucky one of these days.”

The outer door opened noisily. Before Wyatt and Clayt had the opportunity to offer to wipe the grin off Luke’s face, Cletus McCully closed the door and ambled closer.

Staring at the water running off his grandfather’s hat and the footprints on the floor, Wyatt said, “Granddad, you’re dripping wet. Where have you been?”

Cletus hung his hat on a peg near the door and straightened as much as his stoop-shouldered frame would allow. “What do you mean where have I been? Just because I’m seventy-nine years old don’t mean I ain’t got things to do. Mmm. Is that coffee I smell?”

Wyatt tried to count to ten. At seven, he shoved his chair back, strode to the filing cabinet and drained the last of the thick brew from the pot. As usual, his show of temper was lost on his grandfather.

Cletus slurped his coffee then slapped Luke on the back. “I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you proper yet. I talked to your future bride last night. Said she and Lisa and Mel are goin’ into Pierre to look at weddin’ dresses this weekend. That’s good. Real good. Means plans are movin’ along. So, Luke, who’re you gonna ask to be your best man?”

Luke glanced up. “Gee, Cletus, I don’t rightly know. Clayt or Wyatt, I guess.”

Wyatt’s mouth dropped open. Had he just heard Luke say he didn’t rightly know? For crying out loud, it was enough to turn a grown man’s stomach. Gritting his teeth and crossing his arms, he looked at Clayt and said, “He’s your brother.”

Clayt shook his head. “He’s your best friend.”

With a snap of one suspender, old Cletus said, “Looks like there’s only one way to settle this. Okay with you, Luke, if the boys flip for it fair and square?”

Wyatt didn’t care who ended up acting as Luke’s best man. He was too busy trying to figure out why a woman who claimed she would go out with every man who asked had told him that going to dinner wouldn’t be a good idea. He wasn’t so arrogant as to expect every woman to fall at his feet. He could take no for an answer. But Lisa hadn’t told him no. What the hell did she mean going out with him wouldn’t be a good idea? Wyatt happened to believe it was the best idea he’d had in years.

Cletus was still talking when Wyatt came out of his musings. “As best man, you’ll be expected to hook up with the maid of honor. And Jillian asked Lisa Markman to be her maid of honor, ain’t that right, Luke?”

Lisa?

Wyatt jerked to attention. “Heads!” he called.

“Tails!” Clayt said at the same time.

Cletus mumbled something about having to do everything himself then flipped the quarter into the air. He caught it easily enough then slapped it against his forearm. Raising his hand slightly, a grin stole across his wrinkled face. “Wyatt, it looks like you’re guaranteed at least one weddin’ dance with Jillian’s dark-haired maid of honor, and maybe a little time alone with her at the barbecue you boys are havin’ the first Saturday in September. Oooo-eee, that woman’s built for comfort, ain’t she?”

Wyatt’s mind eased into overdrive. Turning Lisa Markman into his arms for a slow wedding dance was one of the most appealing thoughts he’d had all day. Kissing her for the first time was another, and so was wrapping his arms around her and kissing her again.

“I want to see the coin,” Clayt told the older man.

“What do you mean you wanna see the coin?”

“What do you mean what do I mean?”

Wyatt glanced from Cletus to Clayt and back again. His grandfather’s brown eyes were spitting daggers at Clayt, but his right hand remained firmly over the coin.

Clayt wasn’t budging, either. “It just so happens that I’d trust you with my life, but everyone knows you’re not above bending the rules to suit your purposes, and Wyatt is your grandson.”

“You callin’ me a cheater?”

“I’m not calling you anything. Just show us the coin. If Wyatt won fair and square, fine. If not, he can ask Lisa to dance the normal way. She’s made it clear she’ll give everyone a fair chance. She even went out with Grover Andrews, for cripe’s sakes.”

Cletus’s chin came up a notch, and Wyatt found himself saying a silent prayer that he’d get lucky and a bolt of lightning would strike nearby, or maybe his sainted mother would swoop down from heaven and put her hand over Cletus’s mouth.

“That ain’t quite true, boy.”

Wyatt practically groaned out loud. So much for luck.

“Are you saying Lisa didn’t go out with Grover Andrews?” Clayt asked.

“Oh, she went out with Grover, all right. But she ain’t gone out with every man who’s asked her.”

“Who’d she turn down?” Luke asked.

“Yeah, who?” Clayt echoed.

“Didn’t Wyatt tell you?”

Clayt and Luke turned like the guards at Buckingham Palace.

“You asked her out?” Luke asked.

“She said no?” Clayt sputtered.

Wyatt heaved a huge sigh. “She didn’t say no. Exactly.”

“What did she say?” Luke asked.

“She said she didn’t think having dinner with me would be a good idea.”

“That’s odd,” Luke said.

“Yeah,” Clayt agreed. “Why would a woman who’s made it clear that she’s looking for the right man say that?”

“Maybe she doesn’t think I’m the right man for her.”

“How could she possibly know that without going out with you?”

“That’s what I’ve been asking myself all morning.”

“I’m tellin’ you, boy, you have to stop bein’ so nice and take the bull by the horns. Sometimes a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to Cletus, three gazes fell to the gnarled hand clutching his arm, and three voices rose at the same time. “That does it.”

“Show us that coin.”

“Now.”

Wyatt had never heard his grandfather utter a more indignant oath, but after looking each younger man straight in the eyes, he finally raised his hand. Wyatt, Clayt and Luke all stared at the shiny quarter resting on Cletus’s forearm, but Wyatt was the only one who released a low whistle. “There’s no doubt about it, boys. It’s heads. I won the toss, fair and square.”

Thunder rumbled as Cletus dropped the coin into his pocket. Turning on the heels of his worn cowboy boots, he strode to the door with all the dignity and speed his skinny, bowed legs could muster.

“Come on, Cletus,” Clayt called. “Don’t go away mad.”

At the door, Cletus mumbled something Wyatt couldn’t make out, but he recognized the low, sultry voice that answered. His grandfather stepped to one side and the last woman Wyatt expected to set foot in his office walked through the door.

Anything he might have said froze in his brain. All he could do was stare as Lisa Markman strolled toward him. Looking neither right nor left, she didn’t stop until she reached the edge of the railing that divided the office. Wyatt was vaguely aware that Cletus had closed the door behind him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the woman wearing the shiny, red raincoat and the churlish expression.

“Sheriff.”

“Lisa.”

With a haughty lift of her chin, she said, “It’s a good thing I don’t believe in suing people, or I’d have to file a suit against the town of Jasper Gulch for false advertising.”

Wyatt rose to his feet slowly. “Why is that?”

“Your ad said this was a quiet, peaceful town where the biggest crimes are jaywalking and gossip and the ugly color of orange Bonnie Trumble painted the front of her beauty shop.”

“And that isn’t true?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I have to report a theft.”

“What’s been taken?” Wyatt asked, his voice getting deeper with every word.

Lisa lowered her dripping umbrella then met his wide-eyed stare. “It seems that one of the fine citizens of Jasper Gulch stole my car.”