Chapter 42

As crews went, Melanie supposed you could call hers motley, though she preferred eclectic. It sounded more chic and less like a skin condition.

There was Louie, who surveyed the group with his standard air of fatalistic amusement, as if he didn’t expect much to come of all of this fuss but was prepared to be entertained by the attempt. Gordon sat at the bar sipping his post-walk glass of ice water and passing out Tootsie Rolls to Grace, Scotty, and Philip, and apologizing to Louie, who wasn’t allowed candy—at least while under Grace’s eagle eye.

And Grace avoided direct interaction with Melanie whenever possible. It was getting to the point that Melanie wanted to march straight up and demand, “What the hell, Grace?”

But then she would have to deal with the answer, and right now, between Hank and Wyatt and the ever-present doubt about her professional future, she had all the angst she could handle.

It was a relief to focus on the job at hand.

“Grace and Louie, you are in charge of un-decorating.” Melanie swept a hand around to indicate the walls. “We’re leaving all of the foundation elements in place—wallpaper, booths, railings—but the rest has to go. The mirrors, the velvet swags, anything with a gilt frame or a gold tassel is out of here.”

“Thank you, Jesus!” Scotty declared. “Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass that stuff is to clean?”

“I can guess. And while we’re on the subject…you and Philip are going to scrub every crack and crevice of that kitchen, floor to ceiling, wall to wall. I want that sucker to shine.”

The boys exchanged dour looks.

“We gettin’ a chef?” Louie asked.

“No.” Melanie winked at Gordon. “My test group wants real food.”

Louie grinned and patted his belly. “Now you’re talkin’ my language.”

“And what are you gonna be doin’ while we’re all bustin’ our butts?” Scotty asked.

Melanie offered a crooked elbow, inviting Gordon to take her arm. “We have to talk to a man about a fence. And then we’re going antiquing.”

* * *

They met Rowdy at the Roundup grounds, where he introduced them to a friend who was a fencing contractor. If he was at all upset about being left cold at the bar on Saturday night, he hid it well. The asshole.

Melanie had measured the rear patio area of the Bull Dancer and taken photos. The contractor assured her that he could absolutely have a fence up by the end of the week. He also sketched out a design for a simple, retractable rain and sun shade—wide strips of canvas that slid along metal rails and covered the entire space.

“Perfect!” She shook on the deal and gave him her address so he could email her the specs and a bid.

They had just stepped into a coffee shop right outside the Roundup grounds when her phone rang. At the sight of the name on the screen, her stomach did a complicated swoop and twist—half thrill, half dread. A call from Wyatt could be anything from No, really, what are you doing to my bar to horrible news. Despite Hank’s declaration that he had no intention of doing himself harm and Bing’s promise to keep a close eye on him, Melanie couldn’t let go of the fear.

“I hope you haven’t changed your mind about the checkbook,” she said. “I’ve already signed contracts.”

“I’m afraid to ask.” But his amusement sounded forced. “Are you alone?”

She glanced at where Gordon had struck up a conversation with one of his endless number of acquaintances. She caught his eye and pointed at the phone and then the door. He nodded. She stepped outside.

“I am now. What’s up?”

“Joe and I talked.”

From the sound of his voice, the conversation hadn’t gone well. Damn her smart mouth all over again. She should have let Wyatt find his own way to tell Joe about their…whatever it was. “He doesn’t approve?”

“I wish. They honestly meant well, Melanie. They just didn’t have time to really think it through.”

She listened, stunned, as he told her what they’d done. When he was finished, she sank onto the edge of a concrete flower planter, her skin going cold despite the heat of the midday sun. “How could they do that to me? To us?”

“They were trying to help.”

“By throwing us together when I was a total disaster looking for another place to happen?”

He sighed. “Like I said, they didn’t really think it through.”

Her jaw clenched, and she shot to her feet. “They’re gonna have plenty to think about when I get done.”

“Melanie, don’t do anything—”

“Tell Joe thanks a lot. I’ll be sure and show my gratitude the next time I see him, so he should probably wear a cup.”

She disconnected and paced down the short driveway that led to the back gate into the Roundup grounds, punching in Violet’s number as she went.

“Jacobs Live—”

“What the hell, Violet? You’re supposed to be my friend.”

Violet had obviously been warned, because she barely hesitated. “I screwed up. Big time. I was just…shit. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was so furious about Michael, and Wyatt was right there.” She huffed out a disgusted breath. “It sounded brilliant in the heat of the moment. And then he offered you that job, and you accepted, and I thought, okay, maybe this wasn’t the worst idea ever.”

“Is this where you tell me all you did was wave him under my nose, but I’m the one took the bait?” Melanie stomped on a weed that had sprouted between the cracks of the asphalt. “Because apparently I’m so desperate I’ll jump anything with a pulse.”

Violet swore. “Wyatt isn’t just any guy. He is the guy. You know it. He knows it. Hell, even Hank knows it, or he wouldn’t have gotten so pissed.”

“Hank never liked him.”

“Wrong. I’m not saying they were tight, but they did okay until after our wedding. And honey, with the sparks you two were throwing off that night, even your bonehead brother had to notice.”

Melanie snorted. “And what? Hank was gonna protect me?”

“More like he was scared shitless Wyatt would take you away from him.” Violet hmphffed, sounding exactly like her daddy. “He was a total snot from then on, and he had no other excuse. Joe was the one who was constantly on Hank’s ass. And it was Wyatt who convinced Fort Worth and San Antonio and the others to hire him.”

Melanie came up short at the wrought-iron gates. “What? I assumed—”

“It was Joe?” There was a rustle, as if Violet was shaking her head. “Wyatt takes care of all the contracts for the two of them, ever since he persuaded Joe to leave Dick Browning. He decided Hank was ready to step up to the big leagues, so he made it happen.”

When Hank had been acting like a jerk? “Why would he do that?”

Violet gave a soft laugh. “Do I really have to spell it out?”

“I don’t…he did it for me?” she asked in disbelief.

“You had just changed jobs, and you were putting in filthy hours, trying to prove yourself. If helping Hank meant taking some of the weight off of you…”

Wyatt might do that. Or she’d been completely off base when…oh hell. “I accused him of not even trying to save Hank.”

“Wyatt didn’t want anyone to know. He figured it would only make things worse if Hank felt beholden to him.”

He was right. After convincing himself Wyatt had it in for him, Hank would not have been grateful. So Wyatt had worked his magic behind the scenes, and gotten nothing but grief in return. Just one more reason that she…

“Shit,” she said. “I’m in love with him.”

Violet gave a little squeal. “Yes!”

“No.” Melanie braced her back against the metal bars of the gate, her chin sinking along with her heart.

“What do you mean, no?” Violet demanded, practically singing. “You love him, he’s crazy about you—”

“He never wants to get married again,” Melanie tacked on, mimicking Violet’s tone.

“What? Of course he does. He said so.”

Melanie’s head jerked up. “When?”

“Back at the beginning, when Joe was being a dumb-ass. Joe said guys like them didn’t get happily ever afters. And Wyatt said the hell with that. He intended to have the works, including a herd of kids and a house full of dogs. Or maybe it was the other way around.”

“But he just…”

Lied. He’d barely finished promising to be honest with her before he’d looked her straight in the eye and lied.

And it made perfect sense. She thought of the notes she’d made that night in the canyon. Craves connection. Community. Family? If she hadn’t been on such an emotional roller coaster, she would have seen the inconsistency. Those weren’t qualities of man who feared commitment…or marriage.

He just didn’t want to marry her.

Why would he, after these past two weeks? Why would anyone? She was a rolling disaster with no end in sight. After Laura and Gabrielle, the last thing he needed was more drama.

As if she could hear the running inner dialogue, Violet said, “There has to be a reason…”

“Like what, Violet? Why would he say that other than to let me down easy? Geezus.” She thumped her head against the gate. “A classic, It’s not you, it’s me, and I fell for it.”

“I don’t believe that. Something is not right. I’ll make Joe pry it out of him.”

“Don’t.” Melanie heaved a weary sigh. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We already agreed this can’t happen. Not with Hank the way he is.”

“Yeah. I heard.” And her tone said she was not happy that it hadn’t been from Melanie.

“I’m sorry. I kept telling myself I was overreacting, and I was afraid you’d say I wasn’t. And then I saw him…” She fixed her gaze on the coffee shop, where Gordon was waiting. This wasn’t the time or place. “I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Later,” Violet said. “You can tell me everything, and we’ll figure out what to do. But I need to know…are we okay?”

Melanie blew out a shaky breath. “We have to be. You’re all I’ve got.”

“That’s not true. You have the whole bunch of us.” Violet sniffed, getting teary again. “I am so sorry, Mel. You gave me a shove when I needed it, and I got Joe. I was trying to return the favor.”

“And eventually I might appreciate the sentiment. But for now, you can start making it up to me with a phone number. What I need is a ranch cook, and Joe knows just the person.”

“Helen! Oh my God, she will be thrilled. She’s been working as a lunch lady at one of the grade schools in Yakima and swears if she has to dish out one more Salisbury steak with fake gravy, she’s going to throw herself on her spatula.”

If, as Joe claimed, the woman could hold her own with Miz Iris in the kitchen, Helen was wasted on a bunch of elementary kids. And Joe should know, since she’d fed him for the entire fifteen years he’d worked for Dick Browning. Melanie jotted down the number and started back toward the coffee shop. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’m going to the saddle club tonight.”

“You’re roping?”

“Yes.”

“Well, hallelujah! At least something good has come of this mess.”

Melanie thought of Wyatt, wet and slick and insanely gorgeous in that bathtub. Despite the ball of red-hot needles lodged behind her breastbone, she smiled. “Believe me, it has not been all bad.”

By the time he came back from Reno, she would have the hurt tucked safely away and be prepared to take full advantage of the time they had left. She’d have to stay long enough to coordinate the initial marketing push and develop a long-term plan based on the results. And where she and Wyatt were concerned, she would have to constantly tread that fine line between too much and never enough.

As she hung up, Gordon stepped out of the coffee shop, the twinkle in his eyes muted by concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” she said, brightening her smile to prove it.

Wyatt Darrington wasn’t the only one who could lie like a dog.