Monday morning, Aftyn felt like she needed roller skates to keep up with the flood of hungry ranchers and farmers filling the diner. Set a plate down, scribble an order, pour a coffee, start over. The ceiling fans spun overhead and so did her head.
As she refilled a mug, the bell above the door jingled and a tall man in a charcoal pinstriped suit walked in, slicked-back hair, small briefcase, manicured hands reaching for the laminated menu. He looked as out of place as a penguin in the desert. She glanced around but nobody paid him any attention. Passing through, probably. She picked up the carafe and walked over.
“Good morning. What can I get you?”
“You’re Aftyn Hutchins, right?”
She went still. “How do you know that?”
“Sterling Peterson.” He kept his voice low beneath the clatter of silverware and morning chatter. “Your aunt hired me to find your sister. She gave me a photo of you.” He smiled. “Doesn’t do you justice.”
“Mr. Peterson.” She shook his hand, noting the firm grip and skin that had never seen a day of ranch work. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too.” He glanced around the packed diner. “I’d ask if we could talk now, but it looks like that might be a while.”
Aftyn smiled. “Mornings and lunch are hectic. My shift ends at one if you want to come back. We can sit in a booth and talk then.”
“That works. I’ll head to my motel andcome back.” He shook his head, his hair not moving an inch. “I had no idea it would be this busy.”
“Every morning. Take a look at the menu and flag me down when you’re ready.” She nodded toward the growing line of impatient faces and got back to work.
She moved through the maze of tables, taking orders and refilling mugs, falling back into the rhythm. Each time the bell above the door jingled her heart skipped and she glanced up, half expecting Cole. He’d told her he wouldn’t be in this morning, so she had no idea why she kept looking. Oh, she had every idea why. That man had rocked her world, and she wanted to see him again.
****
Cole stepped into the barn, the mingled scents of hay and warm leather settling over him. Sunbeams slanted through the high windows, dust floating in the light. In the center aisle, Rio and Landon eased a palomino down the trailer ramp. The gelding’s cream coat gleamed like burnished gold, and though he was young his dark eyes stayed steady. No snorts, no fidgets. Good. That calm would make the work easier.
“That Cliff’s horse?”
“Yes, sir.” Rio wiped the back of his neck with a handkerchief.
“Put him in the last stall. We won’t start right away, but let’s get him settled.”
Rio grinned, tugging the stall door open. “Good thing Cliff’s not in a hurry.”
“He knew it wouldn’t do him any good.” Cole watched the horse step onto fresh straw.
Rio hooked the lead rope to the ring. “Once we’re done here, Landon and I will ride the north fenceline.”
Cole nodded toward the transmitter box on the post, its red light blinking erratically. “Trip again?”
“Probably a moose or elk brushing past. I’ll grab a walkie-talkie before we head out.”
“Good. And keep an eye out for that mama grizzly.”
Cole brushed straw from his jeans and headed for the office, already thinking through the morning. Inspect the barley fields, then saddle the mare. She was making progress and he didn’t want the momentum to slip. His phone buzzed as he crossed the aisle. He squinted at the screen and groaned.
Chuck.
He tapped it. “Hey Chuck. What’s going on?”
A rasping sigh came down the line. “Cole, that car’s a total loss. Engine’s locked up solid. The transmission’s the only thing worth salvaging. It’d cost her more to fix than it’s worth. I’m sorry.”
Cole’s shoulders slumped. He’d been dreading this. Aftyn was already stretched thin, and she’d pinned her hopes on getting that car running. He rubbed his temples. “I’ll tell her, Chuck. Thanks.”
He pushed open the office door and sank into his creaking leather chair. Maps, receipts, and a half-drunk cup of coffee cluttered the desk. He sent Aftyn a quick text to call when she had a minute, figuring she’d be slammed until at least late morning. His phone buzzed almost immediately.
He tapped it. “Hey. Thought you’d be buried until eleven.”
