Their Wander Canyon Wish. Allie Pleiter
using only the word tender. She moved like a woman still off balance and highly bothered by it. Wyatt wasn’t quite sure what gave him such an insight. He normally didn’t bother to read women that deeply. Perhaps it was the contrast of her current striving to the girls’ faces of easy joy yesterday.
Being charming came to him as easily as breathing, but he was struck by the overwhelming urge to be nice to her. Genuinely, decently nice, not just the kind of nice designed to get him a phone number or a date. Huh. His upstanding do-right brother, Chaz, might have a lot to say about that, but thankfully Chaz was not standing in his garage watching him give Marilyn a kind smile.
“I’m not a lot of things, Marilyn, but I am honest.” He held out his hand for the book, which he expected to be a meticulous maintenance log. “Let me look at this, and the car, and I’ll help you figure out what needs doing.”
“Thanks.” She said the word easy enough, but just before she did, there was a flick in her gaze. A short burst of something behind her eyes that told him someone had given her plenty of reasons not to trust.
He flipped quickly through the book, confirming that it was a detailed listing of all the vehicle’s maintenance and repairs. “Thorough.”
She sighed. “My husband was nothing if not thorough.”
Setting the book aside, Wyatt walked out to the vehicle and slid his hand under the grille to pop the hood. He could live with her suspicions, even dare himself to live them down. He did that all the time, after all. He barely even registered the sideways glances of folks in town anymore.
The SUV’s hood rose to reveal a pristine engine. “You weren’t kidding.” Particular was an understatement for the kind of care this car received. He bent down over the engine, and whistled in appreciation. “I doubt you’ll have much to worry about with this car.
She glanced back at the shop. “Have you worked at Manny’s long?”
He looked farther and removed a spark plug, unsurprised to find it in perfect condition. “Nah. I’ve just been filling in for him while his wife gets her knee fixed. I’m still trying to figure out my long-term game plan.” Now that I’ve booted myself off the family ranch, that is.
“Open your own garage, maybe?”
Wyatt straightened up. “Dunno.” He wasn’t sure what made him test her with the next statement—her newness back in town, maybe. “Might be something for me if that new hotel keeps expanding.” He watched her reaction, knowing full well her parents were one of the most vocal opponents to the project. “You know about that?”
She frowned, her face taking on the scowl most Wander residents did when discussing Mountain Vista. “Dad’s been talking about it,” she admitted.
The resort firm had been looking at a large-scale expansion in the area. Word had it some offers had been hinted at to a few of the less successful ranchers. As far as he knew, town disapproval had kept any of the landowners from admitting to considering an offer, but Wyatt knew it was only a matter of time.
They’d known better than to approach Dad or Chaz about ever selling Wander Canyon Ranch. Still, Wyatt’s buddy Tim had started talking to him about coming on board to run the maintenance and vehicle fleet—if the expansion went through. Sure, it was an unpopular project, but it wasn’t as if he had an upstanding reputation to forfeit.
He shut the hood of the vehicle. “And what’s your opinion?”
She gave him just the hint of a challenge with her eyes. “I can’t say I’m in favor of it myself.”
So she did have a bit of fight left in her. He kept his words casual as he wiped his hands. “They have an uphill public relations battle ahead of them, that’s for sure.”
She straightened. “I work in public relations. Or did. But I prefer causes I believe in.”
He pushed out a breath and motioned for them to walk back into the garage. “I believe in fast cars and good steaks. That doesn’t mean I don’t work on slow little Volkswagens and eat my share of chicken wings.” He handed her back the maintenance logbook. “’Course, we all know being respectable’s never really been high on my priority list.”
“Even if I didn’t care about integrity—” she gave the word a sharp emphasis “—I’m not really in the market for that kind of drama.”
He laughed at that. “Well, you came to the wrong place to hide out from that. We may look charming from the outside, but I expect we rank as high in the drama department as whatever fancy Denver suburb you came from. Or don’t you remember?”
“I loved growing up here.”
Her declaration had the edge of forced hometown pride that always drove him nuts. “Good for you. Three cheers for Wander Canyon.” Why was everyone always insisting Wander was so idyllic? It had never struck him that way—just the opposite, most days.
“If Wander’s so bad,” she challenged, “how come you never left?”
She definitely had some fight left in her. You try getting out from underneath Old Man Walker and see how far you get. He didn’t have the luxury of some well-heeled city tycoon sweeping her out of here to go tend to some tasteful three-car garage house at the end of a quiet Denver cul-de-sac. He met her glare for a long moment before saying “Reasons,” with a little more hiss than he ought to. “Look, you only need an oil change and I can do that easy. But if I don’t rank high enough on the integrity scale for you, feel free to head on over to the dealership twenty miles east of here and let him charge you forty dollars more for inferior oil. It won’t bother me none.”
She hoisted her handbag higher up on her defiant shoulder and turned toward the door. “Well, when you put it that way...”
What was the matter with him? Picking fights with customers? Manny would kill him for starters, and he liked to think of himself as capable of more charm than that. “Wait. Stop.”
She did, which surprised him.
“Look, I was out of line.” He ran a hand down his face. “I’m just a little down on Wander at the moment. People are getting on me about the carousel and all. No reason to take it out on you and your tidy little ride there.”
“I get it.” She actually looked like she did. When you spent lot of time at the end of your rope, it wasn’t hard to see it in other people. Somehow, at that moment, he could see that Marilyn wasn’t home by choice. He wasn’t quite sure how he didn’t see that yesterday—maybe she put up a good front for her daughters—but her eyes broadcast it now loud and clear.
He walked over to her. “I’ll be glad to change the oil for you. And write up what ought to come next and when, if that’ll help. Least I can do for jumping down your throat like that.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t very fair of me to ask you why you hadn’t left. Everybody’s got reasons.”
Those last three words hinted at a lot. What were hers?
Marilyn stood in the middle of the sidewalk, half fuming and half stumped. Wyatt had told her to come back in an hour and a half, and Mom had taken the kids to the grocery store with her.
She now had time to herself. Taking in a deep breath, Marilyn looked up and down Main Street, surprisingly stumped as to where to go next. Wander was the kind of small town people would call quaint, with a classic Main Street lined with mom-and-pop businesses, the kind of restaurants where everyone knew your name, and was generally blessed with clear sunny days perfect for meandering. The morning ought to feel like a holiday, the peaceful, blissful stretch of time she’d often dreamed of in Denver’s hustle and rush.
Now, thanks to Wyatt Walker, she couldn’t quite figure