His Montana Homecoming Page 5

  Faith laughed. “No. Who are you going to call, anyway?”

  Dale glanced at his phone. The circle timer still swirled. “Have you ever changed a tire before?”

  “Yes. My father made sure I knew how before I left for college. I can do it.”

  Dale headed for the back of the truck, slipping as he went. His Gucci boots didn’t have much traction. Fumbling in a duffel bag labeled Safety Kit, he found neon orange triangles and a couple of fat candles. He placed the triangles along the side of the road behind them and then carefully padded his way to the front of the car. He should put on his long wool coat, but it’d only get in the way and restrain his movement.

  He reached inside to click on the hazard lights. “What are those candles for?”

  “A heat source in case I go off the road. Never leave a car idling if you’re stuck in a snowbank.” Faith knelt on the snow-packed road and loosened the lug nuts of the driver’s-side front tire with the crowbar that came with the jack. She looked as if she knew what she was doing.

  “Here, let me help.”

  Faith glanced up at him. “You ever do this?”

  “No.” What kind of man was he that he couldn’t change a tire? “But I can figure it out.”

  “You’ll ruin your suit.”

  “I’ll buy a new one.”

  Faith raised her eyebrows. “What about those shoes? They’re showing water stains. Why don’t you put on Adam’s boots?”

  He hated feeling useless, and she was right about his kid-leather boots. He’d ruin them, plus they were slippery on the surface of the road. “They’re fine. Give me that jack.”

  She handed it over.

  He looked at the tiny metal thing. “This is going to support the car?”

  “It had better, considering it was made for it. Place the jack a little ways behind the tire, and then crank it up enough for me to wiggle off the wheel.”

  Carefully, he positioned the jack under the Honda. Using the lever and the crowbar, Dale got enough height for Faith to finish screwing off the lug nuts by hand. Then she tried to shimmy the wheel. It wouldn’t budge.

  “Don’t reach underneath anything.” Dale didn’t trust that jack. “Here, let me do it.”

  She stepped aside. “Fine.”

  “There’s the culprit. We ran over a nail.” He wiggled the wheel and then pulled. It slipped off easier than expected and he backed up quickly, but his boots failed. Both feet came out from under him and he landed hard with the tire on top of his chest.

  “Are you okay?” Faith stood looking down at him.

  “Ah, yeah, fine.” He groaned. The cold-packed snow melted, seeping into the seat of his trousers.

  Faith giggled as she knelt down to pull the tire off him. Then she gasped. “Oh, no…”

  He sat up and looked at the front of his suit. The tire had left a streak of grime from shoulder to hip. Ruined. He glanced at Faith.

  Her blue eyes shone with unabashed amusement.

  “It’s not funny.” But it was.

  She burst into laughter.

  He spread his arms wide. “This is one of my favorite suits.”

  And that made her laugh even harder. “It’s downright ugly, if you ask me.”

  He grinned. “I’ll have you know that I dated a cousin to the royal family in this suit.”

  “Really?” Faith wrinkled her nose. “Was it serious?”

  He laughed at her wide-eyed innocence. “I don’t do serious.”

  “Oh.”

  He tried to stand.

  “Here.” She reached out her hand.

  He looked at it and then at her. Petite came to mind. Then crazy. “Yeah, like you’re going to leverage me into standing.”

  “I’m no weakling.”

  “Neither am I.” The last thing he needed was to pull her down with him if he slipped again.

  He made an awkward show of getting up off the cold ground. She stifled a giggle with the palm of her hand.

  Nice.

  He managed to remain upright while he hauled the flat tire into the back of Faith’s SUV. No need to worry about more dirt. His suit was toast. The temporary replacement tire lay on the ground waiting to be popped on and tightened. He managed to complete that task, too, without losing his balance.

  “Step back,” he ordered as he lowered the jack.

  Faith folded her arms and waited, watching him silently.

  He stood, whipped off his suit jacket and wiped his hands with it. Then he balled up the garment and looked around.

  “Don’t even think about leaving that behind.”

  “It’s made of natural fibers, it’ll break down.” Did she think he’d really litter real garbage?

  She snorted contempt. “Give it here and I’ll throw it in the back. You still want to drive?”

  “Yes.” He tossed her the jacket and slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. He needed to feel in control of something.

  Flicking the switch for heated seats, he hoped his backside would dry. And thaw. Man, he was cold. He cranked the heat.

  Faith climbed in.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She leaned toward him, inspecting his face.

  “What?”

  “You’ve got grease under your chin.” She reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a wad of napkins. “Hold still.”

  He jerked his head out of reach and glanced in the rearview mirror. “Where?”

  She grabbed his chin and pulled his face toward her. “Quit or you’ll get the collar of your shirt messed up.”

  “I don’t care about my shirt.” He didn’t fight her, though. The grip she had on his chin was strong.

  She concentrated on wiping under his chin.

  He watched her. Her eyelashes were ridiculously long.

  “You’ve got a glob of grease right here.” Leaning over the console that separated their seats, Faith rubbed the skin below his ear with a rough napkin.

  “Are you done?” He tipped his head down and breathed in the soft scent of her wrist.

  She looked up at him and her big blue eyes widened. Innocence. Maybe that’s what drew him to her. All the more reason to stay away. She looked too innocent to go there. But they were so close. And some habits were hard to ignore.

  Dale’s instincts kicked in. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. Nothing more than a brief taste. That’s all he was after. That’s all he could possibly go after.

  But then Faith’s response surprised him and before Dale knew what he was doing, he’d wrapped his arms around her. Too late, he realized there was nothing safe about this woman. On a lonely stretch of narrow road in the middle of the mountains, they were in her car alone. Dale shivered. No, it was more like a shudder from the inside out. Had to be the cold, not the woman. He quaked right down to the soles of his useless boots and pulled away.

  Faith blinked at him like a deer caught in headlights. Stunned. Then she smiled. “Wow. You’re really good at that.”

  “I’m good at a lot of things.” He stared at her.

  She blushed, making the scatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks stand out even more.

  Was she toying with him? He didn’t think so. She’d kissed him as if he meant something to her. Like she cared. And that was a dangerous place to be. He ran his hand through his hair and tried to get his bearings. “Look, Faith, uh, I’m sorry about that.”

  “Now you’ve got a smear of dirt on your forehead.” She reached up, napkin in hand, completely ignoring him. Ignoring what had happened between them.

  What had happened? He wasn’t quite sure.

  Dale took it from her, looked in the mirror and scrubbed.

  “Thank you for changing the tire, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome.” He crumpled up the napkin and tossed it at her feet where the others had been thrown.

  He looked at her.

  She gave him another smile.

  The woman could really smile. It lit
up her whole face and did something to him. Dale might as well have slipped and fallen again. That same unbalanced feeling had him gripping the steering wheel.

  “If we go now, we can make it to the hardware store before they close.”

  “Yeah.” He checked his mirrors. No one. For miles. He was all alone with a girl who’d thrown him for a loop.

  He pulled away from the side of the road with less speed than a grandmother. He couldn’t get his bearings. A trip to Bozeman’s airport made a lot more sense than traveling to the Jasper Gulch hardware store. But he was here for a reason, and there was no use backing out now.

  He sighed.

  “You okay?” Faith’s voice was soft and quiet.

  Finally, she’d acknowledged that something might be wrong. All wrong. And why was she so calm?

  He cleared his throat. “Fine. Maybe a little worried about what kind of jeans your hardware store carries.”

  “Good ones, Dale. Jasper Gulch only carries the good ones made to last.”

  “Let’s go, then.” Dale pressed the gas a little harder.

  Nothing lasted. Not jeans, and especially not relationships. His father had proved that with three sons from three different ex-wives. He glanced at Faith Shaw, who might be one of Jasper Gulch’s good women. She deserved a man who’d last for the long haul.

  That wasn’t him.

  Good thing he wasn’t staying long. The sooner he got out of Jasper Gulch, the better. He’d do his Massey duty at the homecoming and then split. Until then, he’d keep his hands and lips far away from Miss Faith Elaine Shaw.

  *

  “Try these. Every cowboy I know wears them.” Faith handed Dale a couple of pairs of jeans to try on.

  “Thanks.” He disappeared into the fitting room.

  Faith leaned against the wall and nearly sank to the floor. What had she been thinking, kissing Dale like that? She couldn’t stop reliving it, remembering the feel of it, the taste. Was it possible to fall in love at first kiss?

  Dale had apologized.

  She had to own that that had surprised her. After she’d kissed him back, Faith had scriptures lined up like buckets of cold water just in case. But she hadn’t needed them. Dale had backed away quicker than a colt feeling his first saddle.

  Why?

  Faith closed her eyes. She shouldn’t care about the answer. They were worlds apart. He’d never stay in Jasper Gulch and she’d never leave. Not that he’d offer. Men like him didn’t offer anything proper. He’d said so himself that he didn’t do serious relationships.

  Knowing that, why in the world had she kissed him? Hadn’t she learned her lesson in Seattle? And why had he apologized for kissing her?

  Why?

  “I don’t know.” Dale exited the dressing room with a pair of prewashed jeans that fit him just right. He turned a couple of times, looking in the mirror.

  “I do. Buy them.”

  He gave her a quick look.

  “Now all we have to do is find you a couple of decent shirts.” She wandered away to rifle through the sweatshirts and thermals hanging on a circle rack.

  “I have plenty of shirts.” He stood behind her.

  “Patronage, remember?” Faith whispered, trying to calm her jitters. Did he have to stand so close?

  “Are you folks finding what you’re looking for? Oh, Faith, I didn’t see you.”

  Of course not. Dale practically hovered over her. She replaced a red thermal shirt and smiled. “Hi, Mike. This is Dale Massey, in need of clothes.”

  Dale extended his hand. “I ruined mine today.”

  Mike laughed at the stained olive button-down. “So I see. My wife can help with flannels. We got some new ones in today.”

  “Let me at ’em.” Faith bustled toward his wife, Gale-Ann, hanging up plaids and checks on another rack.

  Dale could afford to drop a few bucks and she’d saved him a fortune by diverting his shopping spree here. Not that he cared. Did he care, really care, about anything?

  “Handsome fella you’ve got there, Faith,” Gale-Ann whispered.

  “He’s not mine,” she whispered back.

  Dale sure had felt like hers when he’d kissed her, though. She wouldn’t mind seeing Dale Massey dressed like one of them. In her dream this afternoon, he’d been one of them. And he had been hers.

  “Hello there, Miss Faith.”

  She turned at the well-known sound of that craggy voice.

  Ninety-six-year-old Rusty Zidek sauntered toward them, his worn cowboy boots shuffling against the wide-plank floors of the shop. He tipped his soft brown cowboy hat toward Dale. “Howdy, wrangler.”

  “Rusty, this is Dale Massey. Here for homecoming.”

  The old man whistled and then slapped his hat against his thigh. “Well, I’ll be! A real live Massey. Staying at Shaw Ranch, I presume?”

  “I am.”

  “Good hospitality there.” Rusty gave her a nod. “I was too little to know your great-great-grandpa before he up and left, but I could tell you stories about him that’d turn you sideways.”

  Dale glanced at her before extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Rusty.”

  Rusty took it and pumped hard. His easy smile crinkled his leathery skin and made the tips of his long gray mustache bounce. “You talk like a regular eastern greenhorn!”

  Again, Dale looked at her for direction. Or maybe it was translation. Rusty wasn’t talking Greek!

  “He’s from New York,” Faith explained.

  “Don’t I know it. Silas struck out for there a long time ago. Must suit you, son. You look like you could wrangle a bull in no time.”

  “The only bull Mr. Massey has probably been close to is that bronze statue guarding Wall Street.” Faith imagined he could wrangle stocks pretty well.

  “She’s right. No bulls.” Dale nodded.

  Rusty laughed and slapped the back of Dale’s shoulder covered in the ugly olive-green–colored shirt. “You lift weights?”

  Faith rolled her eyes.

  “Tennis,” Dale said. “And some racquetball.”

  Rusty choked on his chew. “Tennis? That’s a girl’s game.”

  “Not the way I play.”

  Faith glanced at Dale. Tennis had always seemed like a gentleman’s sport, but the tone of Dale’s voice was downright sinister. “Remind me never to play you in tennis.”

  “I’d go easy on you.” He gave her that silky smile that drizzled over her like melted chocolate, rich and sweet but bad.

  Rusty looked at them both and grinned, revealing his gold tooth. “Well, I’ll let you two young’uns get back to yer shopping. Funny sort of date, if you ask me. See you at the homecoming.”

  “Bye, Rusty.” Faith waved, not bothering to correct him. This was no date.

  “Wow.” Dale watched Rusty head into the tool section.

  “What?”

  “Is he for real?”

  “As real as they get. Rusty Zidek is sort of a living monument here in Jasper Gulch. He was born here shortly after the town’s founding and never really left except to play baseball.” She pulled out a forest-green flannel for Dale to try on. “How about this one?”

  He checked his watch. “Pick a couple and let’s go. I’ve got work to do yet.”

  “What’s your size?”

  “Check.” He stripped off that ugly green shirt of his and handed it over.

  “Oh. Okay.” She tried not to stare.

  Dale wore another one of those skintight, silky looking undershirts that strained against his arms and shoulders. The guy had some guns. All that from tennis? Rusty was right. Dale looked as if he could wrangle a bull in no time.

  “We good?” He snapped his fingers.

  Faith jerked back to reality with a flood of heat to her cheeks. She knew when a man was done shopping. She had brothers whose patience suddenly snapped, too. Maybe Dale didn’t do his own shopping.

  So then, who did? Boy, she sure didn’t like the green-eyed-monster feelings brought on by thoughts
of another woman doing Dale’s shopping. Really, what had gotten into her?

  “Ah, yeah. Boots. They’re over there if you want to try on a pair. I’ll gather the shirts and meet you at the register.”

  He put his hands up in surrender. “I’m done. You can pick them out.”

  She watched him hightail it into the dressing room. He came back out wearing those awful trousers and his tan coat over his undershirt and he had his cell phone plastered against his ear. Did he never give that thing a rest?

  She tromped into the stall he’d exited and gathered up the jeans he’d strewn all over. Okay, Dale Massey wasn’t that much of a neat freak. Fine, she’d get the boots, since evidently it was up to her to pick out what he’d buy.

  Since when had she become his assistant? If that’s what rich men’s assistants did—clean up messes left behind by their lofty bosses.

  Faith tamped down her irritation. At least he was buying clothes here at her request. He’d come here for her. And maybe once Dale got out of those stuffy suits, he’d relax a little. But a relaxed Dale was bound to be even more attractive. And dangerous.

  She got the feeling that he needed to relax. Something about the iron control of his expressions, the way he held himself firmly in check, made her wonder if he wasn’t always on guard. That guard had slipped when he’d kissed her, though. He’d been affected by their embrace.

  Faith grabbed a pair of boots and headed for the register. There was more than mere attraction bubbling between them. Was Dale Massey worth her digging deeper to see if there might be something real and maybe even lasting there? She aimed to find out.

  Chapter Five

  Leaving the hardware store, Dale was carrying several bags toward Faith’s car when his phone buzzed. Shifting bags, he picked up. “Dale Massey.”

  “Dale? Where are you? I called your office, and Jeannie said you were in Montana.”

  “Yes, Mom, I’m in Montana.” He looked at Faith and handed her a couple of bags to load into the back. “I’ll be here for a couple of days.”

  “Where’s your father?”

  “Hong Kong.”

  “I didn’t get my alimony check.”

  Dale clenched his jaw tight. Why did he have to hear about it? Julian had his own assistant, his own lawyer, too, but every month his mother pulled him into the middle, rattling on about his father’s tardiness in payment. His father always paid late. It was Julian’s way of demonstrating who had the control. His mother knew that.