Becky glanced at her watch for the third time since leaving the house. Today it didn’t matter how long the walk took, but if she was successful in finding work, she’d need to know for future trips.
Living in the country would have its drawbacks, especially come the winter, but she was too grateful for the roof over her head to complain.
A roof that needed work done before it rained again, but still…
Hard facts were easy to ignore on a day like this. It was a gorgeous morning, with the sun peeking through the morning clouds and a whole lot of birds going absolutely crazy in the bush beside the road. It was easy to have a light heart when everything was so beautiful, in spite of the impossible list of things she had to accomplish once she reached Rocky Mountain House. And the impossible things she had to accomplish at the homestead. And the—
She laughed. By this time she should be used to accomplishing impossible things before breakfast.
It’d barely been a week since she’d arrived, but it felt a lot longer in some ways. She’d explored the ranch house, and all the land within an hour walking radius. She had a pretty good idea of what she could accomplish with a little hard labour, and that was the one thing she was more than willing to provide.
This was a new start. A new chance to make a better life not only for herself —
—but she couldn’t get ahead and dream too quickly. She was still working one step at a time to keep her head above water. But having the opportunity sent a thrill through her every time she realized how much her life had changed.
Even this. Walking at the side of the road, quilt bag in hand and the urge to whistle breaking free as she strode along.
If she wanted to whistle, she could.
She pursed her lips and warbled back at the birds, the melody from her lips accompanied by their trills and chirps, and she didn’t worry about how it wasn’t womanly to be making such a loud racket.
In fact, she increased her volume and swung her arms harder, head lifted high as she marched toward town.
The honk of a vehicle horn directly behind her made her shoot nearly two feet in the air, heart pounding in panic.
Only when she turned, she made sure no sign of her fear showed, smoothing her expression, especially as she recognized the truck slowing to a snail’s pace beside her.
Oh goody. Her meddlesome rescuer.
Becky kept walking, glancing into the cab as the truck pulled up beside her. The passenger window slid downward, the truck now rolling forward an inch at a time, keeping pace with her strides.
“Hop in, rodeo girl.” Trevor adjusted the tan cowboy hat on his head as he flashed a smile.
“No, thank you.”
Any normal person would have nodded then driven on, but considering the man had climbed a tree to get her attention the previous day, she should have known a simple no wouldn’t be enough to get him to leave her alone.
“If you’re going to town you may as well ride. I’m headed your way.”
“It’s a nice day,” she said clearly, offering him a brief nod. “I’ll enjoy my walk. Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”
She totally ignored him and went back to whistling.
Well, not totally ignored, because it was difficult to forget that a massive four-by-four traveled exactly ten feet behind her, and no matter how fast she walked, or how much she dawdled, he stayed put.
She covered another mile before turning to face him, arms folded across her chest as she glared at the truck and the stubborn man behind the wheel.
He eased all the way up until he was in line with her again. The smile in his brown eyes matched the one creasing his lips.
“Hop in, rodeo girl,” he repeated. “I’m headed into town, how about a ride?”
“I don’t want a ride,” she insisted. “I really wish you’d leave me alone.”
The sparkle of amusement faded from his eyes. “Oh, hey, if you’re worried about getting a ride with a stranger, you can call anyone you’d like to let them know you’re with me. But I promise I’m safe.”
God. She was naïve—being worried about safety was the perfect excuse, although no way was she admitting she didn’t have a phone. “I’m happy walking, but thanks for the offer. I appreciate it.”
“How about I loan you my truck,” he blurted out. “You can head into town on your own.”
Shock made her feet come to a stop. “What is wrong with you?”
“What?”
She was tempted to take her bag off her shoulder and swing it at the truck. “You can’t just give me your truck, or offer for me to leave you abandoned at the side of the road. That makes no sense.”
He shrugged. “Makes no sense to me that you’re walking when I’m driving the same direction you’re headed.” He tilted his head toward the seat. “Come on.”
“I bet you were an annoying child,” she snapped, resuming her march. But now she stared straight ahead to keep him from seeing the smile she was having difficulty hiding.
The truck was barely moving, inching its way down the highway. It was a good thing there was no other traffic, or they would’ve caused a traffic jam.
“Are you new to town, or visiting?” Trevor continued as if they were having a conversation somewhere normal and not at the side of the road with him driving in a one-car parade. “If you’re sticking around, I can show you the sights. What’re you interested in?”
“Being left alone?” she retorted. “But you don’t seem to understand that concept.”
“Just tagging along to keep you safe,” he said, his deep voice tinged with amusement. “It can be tricky business, walking all the way into Rocky. I’d hate for you to get lost.”
“The road doesn’t turn once between here and town,” Becky pointed out, glancing into the cab. She was losing her battle to keep a straight face.
Especially when he gasped in shock, his face twisting dramatically. “No. Jeez, you mean those four right turns I’ve been taking my entire life aren’t necessary?” Becky snorted, and Trevor laughed, snapping up a hand to wiggle a finger at her. “I knew there was a sense of humour hiding in there.”
She gave up. If he was going to be this persistent she might as well save her feet a bit of wear and tear. “Stop the truck. You win.”
His grin grew wider as she hauled open the door and crawled inside. “Where to, rodeo girl?”
Suddenly she wasn’t as certain. She had a whole bunch of places on her list, but she supposed the one that was the closest would be best.
“Anywhere on Main Street would be great. Thanks.” She tightened the seatbelt over her chest and placed her bag in her lap.
“So, Becky Hall, what brings you to Rocky Mountain House?”
A perfectly civil question, and one she’d prepared for. “It was time to move out,” she said with complete honesty.
Trevor nodded, his square jaw all the more noticeable in profile as he kept his gaze on the road, giving her plenty of time to study him. “There comes a time to do the next thing,” he agreed.
She could agree with that. It was past time.
“You have a job in Rocky?” he asked.
“Nothing yet,” she admitted. “That’s what I need to do today. Drop off resumes, talk to people—get my bearings.”
“I know a lot of folk in town,” he said enticingly. “What are you looking for? Maybe I can put in a good word for you.”
“Right. You don’t even know me.”
He laughed again, the sound echoing brightly in the cab, and somehow the sheer joy in it made little bubbles of happiness rise in her core as well, like the birdsong earlier in the day had lifted her spirits.
“Sure, I know you,” he insisted. “You’re my neighbour. Plus, you’re determined enough to crawl on a second-storey roof even though you’re afraid of heights. And you’re stubborn enough to refuse to take the easy way out. I can honestly recommend you for a number of jobs based on those habits alone.”
She leaned back in her seat and took a deep breath. “Okay, you can help me. You know anyone who’s hiring?”
“Depends on your skills,” he said. “You got any training or certificates?”
“No. Nothing official.”
“What were the last three jobs you had?”
She had to give titles to what she’d done? She’d done everything, and nothing. Cook and nanny. Teacher and nurse.
Whore.
“I can cook, and clean, and sew,” she replied firmly. She shouldn’t try to work with children—she bet too many questions would be asked to get those types of jobs.
He nudged her arm lightly. “Did you sew that bag?”
She curled her arms around the sachet. She shouldn’t have taken it, but leaving everything behind had been impossible. “Yes.”
“That narrows it down then. You can quilt—which means first person you should talk to is Hope. Hope Coleman.”
The familiar last name registered a second before panic set in. He’d been flirting with her, she was sure of it, and yet…
And yet it’s not as if she hadn’t had first-hand experience with worse.
“She your wife?”
He’d just lifted a Coke to his lips, but the instant she spoke he was choking, a thin trickle of liquid running down his shirt before he wiped at his mouth and coughed hard to clear his throat. “Jeez, Rodeo, you did that on purpose.”
“Did what? And why are you calling me that?”
“Hope is my cousin’s wife, and she owns the quilt shop in town. And I’m calling you Rodeo because of this.” He ran a finger along the white fringe decorating the sleeve of her plaid shirt. “That’s what barrel riders wear to rodeo.”
The fancy shirts with the tassels were like nothing she’d ever worn before, but they’d come cheap from the thrift shop she’d visited. All she could stuff into a bag for two dollars.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t rodeo. I just liked the shirts.” Even as she spoke, a touch of anticipation was rising. She could quilt. “Do you think Hope needs help?”
“I happen to know she does,” Trevor assured her, turning at the first set of lights and heading down Main Street. “She’s expecting, so she’s looking for an assistant to ease the load.”
He pulled to a stop at the side of the road, and she glanced over eagerly at a neat glass-fronted shop proudly declaring The Stitching Post.
“It looks nice.” She turned to face him. “Thanks for the ride.”
“No problem.”
Only before she had both feet on the sidewalk, he had somehow gotten out and around the vehicle fast enough to offer her a helping hand.
Before she could complain, or stutter uncomfortably, Trevor pulled the wind from her sails. “Let me introduce you,” he offered.
It was too strong of an incentive for her to turn down. Add in that he’d been nothing but charming for the last five minutes, Becky decided to stuff away her reservations for the moment.
“Thank you. Again.”
“Just being neighbourly,” he said with a wink as he pulled open the shop door and gestured her forward.
A small bell rang overhead as Becky eased past him, her body brushing his muscular frame in the tight doorway. She stepped quickly into the open to widen the gap between them, a riot of colour pulling her attention to the shop around her.
It was amazing. Sample quilts hung on the walls, while row after row of bright cotton fabrics were arranged by colour families on sturdy shelves. Tables and books and buttons and…if she’d ever dreamt of heaven it would have started with a room like this.
Becky pivoted in place and hoped with all her heart that Trevor’s good word would be enough to get her the job.