Coming Home To You

“Ah, Morgan…” She glared at him, and that made him chuckle. “Morgan, you should’ve known better than to park this car down here. I guess common sense isn’t one of your strengths.”

“Go away.”

“Better plan on sleeping here, because there’s no way you’re getting out of here tonight, even with a tow truck. Yep, it’s gonna be at least morning before this car’s going anywhere.”

“Leave me alone!”

He grinned. “You might find a ride, but that’s pretty dangerous, asking some stranger to take you home. And irritating as you are, you’re likely to get yourself murdered between here and the motel. Now that would be a real shame.”

His words had the desired effect. She rolled up the window, flung open the door and pushed him out of the way. She stomped to his truck, searched until she found her shoes and put them on. He thought she’d head for the barn, but she limped toward the highway.

Apparently the woman wasn’t only stupid, she was crazy. Did she plan to walk? The town’s one half-decent motel was three or four miles down the road, but she’d never make it in the dark, in the rain, without good shoes.

He watched as she passed beneath the last light and the darkness swallowed her. Well, it wasn’t his problem. Maybe after this experience she’d go back home.

KATE HADN’T GONE far when a dark-colored truck rolled up beside her. No. Not him. Please, not him. She kept walking.

The passenger window slid down. “Get in, Morgan, and I’ll take you back to the motel.”

“I’d rather walk.”

“Don’t be stupid. Get in before you fall and break your neck or get hit.”

“And deprive you of the pleasure of knowing something bad happened to me?”

A car came up behind them, swerving to the other lane at the last second. A horn blast conveyed the driver’s anger. Hayes cursed. “Will you get in the truck before we’re both killed?”

Deciding it was ridiculous to let her anger overrule her good sense, Kate relented and got in the truck. He produced an old flannel shirt with ripped seams.

“Here, this is headed for the garbage, anyway. You can use it to get some of the mud off you.”

Kate used the shirt to dry herself as best she could. She undid her braid, bent her head and rubbed the shirt vigorously over her hair. When she lifted her head, she found him watching her. He quickly shifted his gaze back to the road.

“What did you hope to accomplish by following me tonight?” he asked.

“To talk to you, for once, without us arguing.”

“You make it impossible for me to keep my temper.”

“I seem to have that effect on you.”

“Because you enjoy creating chaos everywhere you go!”

“Are you going to start yelling at me again? Because if you are, you can stop this truck right now and let me out. I’m wet. I’m covered with mud. I’m cold. I’m not going to sit here in misery while you tell me again how horrible I am when I’m simply trying to do my job. And for your information, nothing has ever tried to nest in my mouth.”

He reached down and turned on the heater. Warmth poured into the cab, pushing back the slight chill she felt from being in wet clothes.

“Thank you,” she said begrudgingly.

“You’re welcome,” he answered curtly.

They continued in silence until Kate couldn’t stand it anymore. “Look, I’m really not trying to turn your life into a nightmare. I’m only trying to get information that’s very important to my book. The people at the feed store and the hardware store agreed the best places to catch you were here or at Pine Acres, so I tried here first. I thought it would be less intrusive than my showing up unannounced at the children’s ranch, and I really did want to see what a horse sale was like.”

“You’ve been even busier than I thought. Did you interview everyone in town?”

“No, just the ones I could trick into telling me something juicy about you,” she quipped, repeating the accusation he had made against her earlier.

A fleeting grin crossed his face but was quickly replaced with his usual sour expression. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Do you want to know what I found out about you?”

“That I’m a candidate for electric shock?”

Kate forced herself not to smile. Well, well, the man had a sense of humor. “Besides that.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“That you’re either a saint or a pretty good actor.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

She turned in the seat so she could better talk to him. “Your old high-school classmates remember you as a guy only interested in making a fast buck. Yet the few friends you’ve made here, like Emma Lang at the library and Mr. Harper at the feed store, talk about you with great affection. Miss Emma said you donated a hundred thousand dollars to renovate the children’s area, and I went by and took a look at the new playgrounds you had built at the elementary and middle schools. Apparently you’ve also set up some kind of free dental program for low-income children.” She shook her head. “I don’t get it. Did James’s death really change you that much? What happened to that guy who used to think only of himself?”

“Why is this any of your business?”

“Agh!” she said, frustrated. “Where did you learn to be so stubborn?”

She thought he actually smiled then. “The same place you learned to be so relentless.”

“Hayes, even relentless and stubborn people know when to compromise. Can’t I talk you into letting me interview you?”

“No. I don’t even like you.”

“You don’t have to like me. The book is for James’s benefit, not mine.”

“Go home, Morgan. You’re wasting your time here.”

They reached the motel and he parked his pickup with its long trailer at the side of the building. He started to get out, but she leaned over and grabbed his arm.

“Don’t you even care what I write about you in this book, what people think about Bret Hayes?”

He hesitated, but then said, “No. I don’t care.”

“People believe you resented James’s success and coveted what he had.”

“Do they really think that?”

“Yes, they do. Is it true?”