Falling For The Rebel Cowboy. Allison B. Collins

Sadie trotted in and immediately lay on one of the dog beds. “So many people bring their dogs to town, they have this room set up with food and water bowls and stuff.”

      She raised an eyebrow. “Very progressive for such a small town.”

      “We’re not Podunkville,” he bit out. “Just makes it easier for dog owners, and we don’t have to leave them in vehicles.”

      “That’s not what I—Never mind. Forget I said anything.” She huffed.

      They sat in a back booth, and Patsy, their waitress, stopped by for their order. “Coffee?” She held the pot up.

      Francine nodded. “Please.”

      Patsy filled her cup, then turned to Wyatt. “You want the usual, honey?” she asked, filling his mug.

      “Hey, Patsy. Yeah, thanks.” He pushed the laminated menu across the table. “Sure you don’t want something, Frankie? They have great food.”

      She smiled at Patsy. “No, thank you, I never eat breakfast. Just black coffee.” She watched Patsy walk away, then looked at him. “You’re not going to quit with the Frankie, are you?”

      “Hasn’t anyone ever called you that before?”

      She shook her head. “Not even in school or on the playground.”

      “Francine just seems too formal for you when you’re relaxed, laughing with Marge.” He paused, took a sip of hot coffee. “Or covered in mud.”

      Her cheeks colored prettily, and her nose wrinkled.

      “I’ll stop calling you that.”

      She held up her hand. “No, it’s okay. I kind of like it. Reminds me I need to relax more often. Just promise you won’t do it in front of my colleagues.”

      Patsy returned and set his food down and refilled their coffees. His mouth watered when he saw she’d included one of the diner’s famous cinnamon rolls.

      He picked up his fork and glanced at Frankie.

      “That roll is as big as my hand.” She held her hand over the cinnamon roll. “Correction, it’s as big as your hand.”

      “Yeah, and awesome.” Even as he said it, she licked her lips, and he wanted to be the one to make her do that. Not a cinnamon roll. He cut a piece off and handed her his fork. “Just try it. One bite won’t kill you.”

      She took the fork and slid it between her lips. Her eyes closed as she chewed. “That is the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.”

      He picked up her unopened bunch of silverware and took the napkin off. “Go on, have some more. I’ve got plenty here.” He’d just taken a bite of eggs when she snatched a piece of bacon off his plate and ate it in no time.

      “I thought you don’t eat breakfast.”

      Red stole across her cheeks, and she looked sheepish. “Must be this mountain air. I’m actually hungry today. And I haven’t had bacon in years.”

      He grinned, gestured to Patsy for another order, and slid his plate across the table to Frankie. “Well, don’t deprive yourself anymore. Dig in.”

      They ate in near silence, and it surprised him that it was not an uncomfortable silence.

      The front door opened, and a cold wind blew in two older women. They zeroed in on Wyatt and frowned. As they passed their table, one of them harrumphed and muttered the word trouble, and he almost spit out his coffee.

      Frankie leaned forward toward him. “What on earth was that about?”

      “Teachers.”

      “Yours?”

      “Yup.”

      “I take it the school years were not pleasant ones?”

      They weren’t—especially with the passing of his mother. But the last thing he needed was her learning he’d never graduated. “Why?”

      “Because they keep whispering to each other and looking at you. Do you want to leave?”

      “Nope. It was a long time ago. Let’s just say I wasn’t the best student.”

      * * *

      FRANCINE PUSHED OPEN the door and walked to where Wyatt waited for her. He leaned against the side of the truck, legs crossed in front of him, thumbs in his belt loops. He seemed to be staring at something and nothing at the same time, his mind a million miles away. The hint of grief on his face really surprised her.

      She hated to bring him any more grief, but the conversation she’d just had in the diner bathroom troubled her. She dreaded bringing it up to Wyatt, but she had to, for John Allen’s sake. Once they were on the way back to the ranch, she leaned forward and turned the radio down a bit.

      “When I was in ladies’ room, one of those old biddy teachers followed me in.”

      “And?”

      “She told me to stay away from you, for my own sake. And safety.”

      His face turned to stone, and he wouldn’t look at her. A muscle jumped in his cheek, and she all but heard him grinding his teeth. “That so?”

      “She said you’re a troublemaker.”

      He rolled his eyes. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was a bit of a rebel in my younger days.”

      “Just a bit?”

      He winced. “Okay, more than a bit. I wasn’t the best student, and I had a lot of anger.”

      “So you were in a gang?”

      “What?”

      “She said you’d been in a gang.”

      “I guess from her point of view, we were a gang. I hung around with a few guys and we had motorcycles, played pranks, caused trouble around town, if you call that a gang.”

      “You had a motorcycle in high school?”

      He shrugged. “I did odd jobs for the mechanic in town. He let me buy an old one for cheap. Had to rebuild it from the frame up.”

      “You rebuilt a motorcycle as a kid?”

      “I was always good with mechanics. Better than learning anything in school,” he muttered almost under his breath, but she heard him. “Damn thing stalled more than it ran. But it was mine, and it got me off the ranch. I still have it, even though I don’t ride it much anymore.”

      She steeled herself, dreading the next part, hating to pry, but she had to. “The old lady also said you’d been in jail.”

      His whole body went still, and his eyes narrowed. “This is why I hate coming to town,” he muttered. “That part is true.”

      Adrenaline flooded her body, and she wanted to jump out of the truck. What had she been thinking yesterday, letting her boy spend the day with a complete stranger—who had a record!

      “I’ll bet she didn’t tell you that I took the rap to keep my friend safe, did she?” he ground out through clenched teeth.

      “No, she didn’t. Is that what happened?”

      “My friends and I were out one night. Todd had gotten hold of some booze, so we were passing the bottle around, feeling pretty good. He did something stupid and the cops were called. If his dad had found out, he’d have beaten Todd again, real bad. So I took the rap and had to spend the night in jail. The charges were dropped the next morning because someone saw what really happened and stepped forward.”

      He glanced over at her, a vein jumping in his temple. She could tell how much it bothered him to talk about this. She set a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I had to ask because of my son.”

      “I’d never hurt a kid,” he ground