That Woman in Wyoming Read online

  “No. No, I’ve got it. Thank you.” She forced herself to move, mortified by her confusion and by the curious glances of people around her.

  She refused to glance back as she walked toward her daughters, even though she could feel his eyes on her until she turned the corner into the small seating area. She didn’t start breathing normally again until she’d put a wall between them. And it took another minute for the flush in her cheeks to cool.

  Danielle started talking about something that had happened at school, and Reagan tried desperately to concentrate. But she found herself watching for the stranger to come into the dining area. Danielle’s words seemed to bounce around and fly off and Reagan couldn’t follow what the teenager was saying.

  Then through the window, she saw him striding in the rain toward the street, a bag in one hand, a drink in the other. He paused on the curb and waited for traffic, then jogged across the street toward the motel.

  “Mom? Are you listening?”

  Reagan blinked rapidly and snapped her attention back to the girls. “Yes, of course.”

  “Then can I?”

  “Can you what?”

  “Sleep over at Ashlee’s house on Friday night?”

  “I…I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it, honey.”

  Jamie picked up her milk shake and grinned at her sister. Danielle shook her head in mock despair. Both girls ducked their heads and giggled.

  The only saving grace of the whole, mortifying scene was that Jamie had finally forgotten about her bad mood.

  MAX AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING to clear skies beginning to turn gray in the sunrise and mist evaporating from the sides of the mountains. Crocus and daffodils just coming into bloom filled a flower box outside his motel room window, but the rain-damp sidewalks and frosted windows in his car sure made it look cold. The last thing he wanted to do was take his usual morning run.

  He’d spent hours searching the Internet the night before trying to trace Carmichael’s family. But every lead he got on Carmichael’s past turned out to be another dead end. Carmichael must have been on the move for years. Around ten o’clock, Max had gone out for coffee to help him stay awake, but to his disappointment, the Burger Shack had been locked up tight. Ditto for the Chicken Inn and the Hi-Point Diner. Even the town’s two gas stations had been dark and deserted. Apparently, if you wanted to eat or drink in Serenity, you had to do it before nine o’clock at night.

  He stretched out a few kinks and thought about going back to bed, but he’d always been an early riser. He’d never get back to sleep. And right now, coffee sounded awfully good. Even watery motel room coffee would have been acceptable. But his room didn’t have a coffeepot. Talk about being behind the times. If he had to go out, anyway, he might as well run.

  He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, dug running shoes from his duffel bag, and set off along Serenity’s narrow Front Street. A sliver of golden light dusted snow-covered peaks in the distance and the scents of pine and loamy soil filled the air. He walked to the corner and stretched again to work out the stiffness from traveling the day before. Halfway across the intersection, he realized the diner was still deserted. In fact, every one of the tiny businesses along Serenity’s main drag were closed.

  If Max hadn’t known better, he’d swear he’d dropped into one of those Twilight Zone episodes where everyone in town had mysteriously disappeared. Obviously, he wasn’t going to get any coffee for a while. What a great start to the day.

  He started jogging slowly, letting his irritation have its way as he zigzagged through neighborhoods and took in the deserted streets and darkened houses with only an occasional light shining from someone’s window. One of these houses belonged to Carmichael’s sister, and he found himself wondering which one.

  He’d checked in with the chief of police the day before as a courtesy. Not only did Chief Henley not know who Ronnie Carmichael was, he’d insisted that Serenity didn’t have a crime rate and nobody like the people Max described were living anywhere near. It had taken Max almost an hour to get the chief to agree to keep Max’s mission under his hat so that Carmichael wouldn’t hear rumors of a search and bolt again before Max could find him.

  Max wondered idly as he jogged what kind of woman Carmichael’s sister was. How would she react to hearing that Travis was a fugitive, or did she already know? Would she volunteer information, or would she lie to protect her brother?

  Max turned down another street, this one pockmarked from a harsh winter, and increased his pace slightly. Here, too, only a few houses had lights on; the rest were still dark. He’d never liked small towns. He was used to heavy traffic by six o’clock in the morning and Starbucks after his morning run. To nightclubs and theaters and stores that stayed open all night. To coffee in his hotel room and food whenever he wanted it.

  This town seemed so deserted, the sight of a woman stepping onto her porch two doors down surprised him. She wore spandex pants that showed off a nice set of legs, a loose-fitting sweatshirt that covered everything else, and a baseball cap. As the sun capped the mountains, she stretched for a second or two, then started across the lawn toward the sidewalk. Max knew she hadn’t seen him, so he checked his pace and cleared his throat so she’d know she had company.

  Her gaze flew toward him and she stopped with her hand over her heart. “You startled me.”

  The sun winked off the red curls peeking out from beneath her baseball cap, and Max’s complaints vanished like morning mist under a hot sun. He let his gaze linger on her slim legs and follow them to their natural conclusion, then caught himself and met her gaze.

  Usually, he didn’t let anything interrupt his morning routine, but today he stopped. “Sorry. I tried to make some noise so you’d know I was here.”

  “No harm done.” She closed the gate behind her and took a few steps away from the yard. “So, we meet again.”

  “It must be fate,” he joked.

  She laughed softly. “I doubt that. It’s kind of hard to miss people in a town this size.” She gave him a quick once-over. “Are you new in town, or just passing through?”

  “Here on business.”

  “Really?” She tilted her head and studied him more closely. “What kind of business could you have in Serenity?”

  Max gave his standard answer. “I’m in acquisitions.”

  She looked at him from eyes as green as the sea. The kind of eyes that could probably see a whole lot more than he wanted them to. “Acquisitions as in land?”

  He gave a casual shrug and let her think so.

  She twitched the brim of her hat and took a couple of steps toward the end of the block. “Any property in particular?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss it,” he said, falling into step beside her. “Sorry.”

  She darted a glance at him. “That sounds horribly mysterious. You’re going to drive people crazy with that answer.”

  “But not you?”

  “I’ll wait to hear what the citizens come up with. It should be entertaining.”

  “I’m sure it will. You’ll have to let me know what they’re saying.” Max took a deep breath of clear mountain air and tried to change the subject. “What time can a guy get a cup of coffee around here?”

  She pulled back the sleeve of her sweatshirt and checked her watch. “The diner opens at seven. By the time you get back to town center, coffee will be on.”

  “Then maybe I’ll survive after all.” The conversation could have ended there quite naturally, but he wasn’t ready to let her go yet. “Were those your daughters with you last night?”

  Her expression grew soft and her eyes sparkled. “Yes.”

  “Twins?”

  “No, but people often think so when they first meet them. Danielle is fourteen and Jamie is thirteen.”

  “Two teenagers must keep you busy.”

  She increased her pace slightly. “They do.”

  He matched her gait, huffing slightly from the altitude, reminding himself o
f his cardinal rule—no women with children. Then again, he was only in town for a few days. There wouldn’t be time for things to get complicated. Besides, for all he knew, she had a husband or a boyfriend waiting for her at home.

  She paused at the corner, jogging in place while a pickup rolled past. She waved at the old man behind the wheel and moved into the intersection when the way was clear again. “It sounds as if you know about teenagers. Do you have children?”

  “Nieces and nephews. No children of my own.” He followed her to the other side. “My job keeps me on the road too much to have a family.”

  “No wife, either?” She didn’t look at him, but he knew he wasn’t imagining the slight flush on her cheeks.

  Her interest pleased him. “No wife. And you?”

  She grinned. “I don’t have a wife, either.”

  His laugh echoed in the early morning silence. “Well, that’s good. What about a husband?”

  She hesitated for a heartbeat before answering. “No.”

  He liked that. For good measure, he asked, “Significant other?”

  “No.”

  He didn’t know why he liked her response so much, but he didn’t waste time analyzing his reaction. “Good. Then maybe you won’t say no to having breakfast with me when we’re through.”

  Her expression immediately became guarded. “I don’t think so.”

  “I promise you’ll be perfectly safe. You can tell me everything there is to know about Serenity.” And maybe point me toward Carmichael’s sister.

  She sent him an amused look. “I can tell you about Serenity before we get to the end of the block. Besides, I’m not in the habit of accepting dates with strangers. And I have children to get off to school. And I have to be at work in two hours.”

  He listened intently, trying to keep his mind on what she was saying instead of the shimmer of hair visible from beneath her cap, the bronze glow of her face and arms, the clear green of her eyes. She was a woman who belonged in the sun; shadows didn’t do her justice. He had the feeling it would be a long time before he’d watch a sunrise and not remember how she looked bathed in its golden light.

  “How about lunch, then? If there’s nothing to tell about Serenity, you can tell me everything I need to know about you.”

  She ground to a halt and put her hands on her hips. “Why would I want to do that?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “Because I don’t know you.”

  “I can fix that. I’ll tell you everything you need to know about me.”

  She studied him for a moment. “Let’s try that first and see how it goes. Start with your name.”

  “Max Gardner.”

  She led him around another corner. “Where are you from?”

  “Born in Virginia, raised on marine bases all around the world. Currently living in San Diego where I stayed when my dad was reassigned the year I turned eighteen. I’m currently thirty-five years old, the youngest of three boys. My brothers are pillars of society, both are married, and they have seven kids between them. In my mother’s eyes, they almost make up for me.” He paused to catch his breath and grinned. “Not that I’m a bad guy. I’m just not living my mother’s dream—no wife, no kids and no house with a white picket fence. So, what do you think? Are you willing to take a chance on sharing a meal with me in a public place?”

  She lifted one shoulder slightly. Her lips didn’t smile, but her eyes did. “I suppose it would be safe enough.”

  “Terrific. Where should I pick you up?”

  “I’ll meet you. Be at the Chicken Inn at noon.”

  “I know I passed it last night. Not sure I can find it again.”

  “You can’t miss it. It’s the old building made of rock on the corner of Front and Aspen Streets. It used to be a movie theater. They put the lunch specials on the marquee.” She increased her pace and moved into a patch of clear sunlight. Her hair blazed and seemed to breathe life into the entire valley. She tossed one last thing over her shoulder as she moved away. “See you then.”

  “Wait! At least tell me your name.”

  “Reagan.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Reagan McKenna.” And in a flash of red and gold, she was gone.

  Max watched the sway of her hips as she ran, the slim line of her legs. When she disappeared around the next corner, he let out a sigh of pleasure. If Serenity could produce a woman like that, maybe it wasn’t such a bad place after all.

  AN HOUR LATER, Reagan stood under the hot spray of the shower, wondering what she’d done. It wasn’t that she felt disloyal to Paul. She’d loved him dearly and always would, but he’d been gone three years and she knew it was time to move on.

  Easy to say. Not so easy to do.

  She’d turned down dates with men she knew—perfectly nice men—because she’d been too busy moving, helping the girls adjust and settling into her new life. So why had it been so easy to accept an invitation from a total stranger?

  She smiled, thinking about the way Max had looked in his faded sweats, his hair tousled as if he’d done nothing more than run his fingers through it before leaving his motel room, the suggestion of a beard shadowing his cheeks and chin. Seeing him disheveled had put her at ease. If he’d looked the way he had yesterday or last night, she’d probably have been too tongue-tied to talk to him.

  She turned off the shower and stepped out into the steamy bathroom. She could hear Danielle and Jamie through the wall separating the two bathrooms arguing mildly about something. How would they feel about her accepting Max’s invitation to lunch?

  She’d rather not make a big deal out of it, but half the town would know about it before she and Max had placed their orders. The girls would never forgive her if they heard about her date from someone else.

  She slipped into her faded robe and opened the door just as Danielle skipped past holding a pair of jeans. Steam billowed into the hallway with her, and the cool air chilled her bare legs and feet.

  Jamie careened around the corner, intent upon catching her sister. “You can’t wear those. I’m going to wear them.”

  “No you’re not.” Danielle grabbed Reagan’s arm and ducked behind her, using her like a shield. “They’re mine and I didn’t say you could borrow them.”

  “They’re mine,” Jamie argued. “I’ve planned my whole outfit around them.” She tried to reach past Reagan to grab the jeans. “Mom, make her give me my pants.”

  Reagan glanced at Jamie in disbelief and held out her hand for the jeans. What was going on with Jamie lately? She never preplanned outfits.

  Danielle reluctantly turned over the pants. “Look at the tag, Mom.”

  For years, Reagan had marked the girls’ clothes by snipping a corner from the laundry-care tags in Danielle’s things, so it only took a second to see that Danielle was right. She handed the jeans back and looked at Jamie. “Aren’t yours in your closet?”

  “The ones like that?” Jamie tossed her braid in frustration. “I haven’t seen them in a long time. Weeks, maybe.”

  “I’ve washed them more recently than that,” Reagan told her. “Have you looked under your bed?”

  “I’ve looked everywhere. They’re gone.”

  “They have to be somewhere.” Reagan slipped her arm around Jamie’s shoulder. “Pants don’t just get up and walk out the door. And I know they’re not waiting to be washed. The laundry’s not that backed up.” She started toward Jamie’s room. “Why don’t we look together? Maybe with two sets of eyes we’ll find them.”

  Jamie pulled away from Reagan’s arm and stepped in front of the door. “They’re not in there, Mom. I swear.”

  Reagan rarely invaded the privacy of her daughters’ bedrooms so the concern on Jamie’s face seemed out of place. She hesitated, wondering if there was something wrong. Before she could question Jamie, the telephone rang.

  Danielle made a dash into the kitchen, determined not to let Jamie get there before her. Jamie tore after her, insisting that it was h
er turn to answer.

  Reagan stayed behind, looking at the door to Jamie’s room and rubbing her forehead. Memories of her brother’s behavior when he first started getting into trouble darted through her mind, but she forced them aside. If it hadn’t been for that letter from Teton Extreme Sports, she would never have suspected Jamie of hiding something from her. In fact, she could scarcely credit the idea now. But she didn’t want to be one of those parents who refused to see the truth, either. She’d have to talk with Jamie later, when they had more time.

  Moving her hand to the back of her neck, she tilted her head to work out the knots of tension. Mornings were always a trial and her growing nervousness over her lunch date wasn’t making this one easier.

  “Mom? It’s for you.” Jamie had obviously won the battle for the telephone.

  Tightening her robe sash, Reagan hurried into the kitchen. “Who is it?” she mouthed to Jamie, who was twirling lazily on a breakfast stool while she held the receiver to her ear.

  Jamie covered the mouthpiece with one hand. “I don’t know. Some guy.”

  Reagan’s spirits plummeted. It had to be Max calling to cancel. Who else could it be? She took the phone and steeled herself for disappointment. It was probably for the best, anyway. But it wasn’t Max’s deep voice that responded when she answered.

  “Sis?”

  “Travis?” She laughed, suddenly giddy with relief and a little dazed. Her brother moved around so often and called so rarely, it was no wonder Jamie hadn’t recognized his voice. They hadn’t seen him since a few months before Paul died. To Jamie, three years was a lifetime. It felt nearly that long to Reagan. “Where are you?”

  “On my way to see you. I’ve just got a couple of things I need to do first.” She could hear traffic in the background, which meant he was calling from a pay or cell phone.

  “You’re coming here?” She’d written to tell him where they were, but she’d never known whether or not the letters had actually reached him. “When?”

  “I don’t know for sure. A day. Maybe two. I’ve gotta see this guy about some money he owes me first. I just wanted to make sure it’s okay if I crash at your place for a few days.”