No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) Read online

  Sally finished at school and made a quick stop at the Git & Go to pick up a few items for the weekend. Once home, she didn’t want to have to go out again unless absolutely necessary. She admitted to being a bit of a hermit. But she’d grown used to being alone on weekends when others spent time with their families. It had been one of the reasons she volunteered in the summer and fall to give trail rides to the kids at Ellie’s shelter. The thought of her last trail ride of the season and the heated confrontation with Clay Saunders reverberated still in her memory. Dirt had been slung, words said that cut deep. Neither had spoken of it since, avoiding the topic by avoiding each other as much as humanly possible.

  She dropped a loaf of bread into the basket she carried and was eyeing a jar of salsa when she had the unmistakable feeling of being watched. Glancing up, she noticed Sam Tanner standing directly across from her over the shelf of chips. Sam was the owner of Tanner’s Meat Market. He was a widower and handsome in a rugged way, with silver hair streaking once coal-black hair and bright, blue eyes that all but sparkled in his all cowboy face.

  “Miss Andersen,” he replied, his thick silver mustache lifting with his smile. His gaze held hers as he tipped the brim of the dusty, brown Stetson he wore as he ambled to the register to pay for his groceries.

  “Hey… Sam?” Sally said quietly, trying to determine why he seemed to act so strange. He wasn’t a stranger. Sally had been going to the market for years and he’d always been friendly, very open.

  This bordered on creepy.

  She mentally shook her head and told herself that she was imagining things when Sam paused at the door, looked back straight at her and smiled—and yes, it was definitely charming, with a bit of sex tossed in, she was pretty sure.

  “See ya around,” he tossed out in his whiskey-coated voice.

  Her eyes widened in surprise, but her brain couldn’t find her tongue to speak. She followed his slow, swagger across the parking lot with her gaze as she walked to the register. “You notice anything odd about Sam just now?” If there were any gossip, any scuttlebutt in town the first to know would be Denise or Betty, and the next would be Maggie, owner of the Daily End Times newspaper.

  Denise sorted through the handful of change Sally had dumped from her wallet to pay for her bread. She could have used her debit card, but she got a gleeful sense of power when she paid with cash whenever she could.

  Denise rang up the item and chuckled. “Hun, you’ve become about as popular as the Powerball around here.”

  Sally’s heart stilled. “What are you talking about?”

  Denise had the courtesy to at least appear surprised. “The buzz around town is that you’re looking for a baby daddy.”

  A wave of nausea assaulted her. She dropped her forehead to the cool, glass countertop. “Please tell me you’re joking.” She closed her eyes.

  “Sweetie, are you okay? Here, maybe you need to take a sip of my energy drink.”

  Sally felt the nudge to her head and straightened. “Where on earth did you hear this?”

  Denise looked at the ceiling as though trying to grapple with the origin of the rumor—which in theory wasn’t really a rumor, just a misguided perception. Sally pictured her fingers closing around her once-best friend Aimee’s throat.

  “I think it was at Betty’s.” Denise was really pondering this. “Or maybe it was the other night on my bowling league—that would’ve been Thursday night.”

  Sally groaned audibly.

  Denise studied her. “Goodness, if it’s not true, there are certainly going to be some upset bachelors in this town.”

  Sally glanced at Denise. “What… all eight of them? Nine, if you count the UPS guy who comes through on Monday?”

  “Poor guy.” Denise sighed. “Kurt, seemed so hopeful, too.”

  “Oh, my God.” Sally held her hand to her forehead, hoping to quell the chaos swirling in her skull. She shouldn’t have said a word to anyone. “Denise,” she began forcing calm into her voice. “you’ve got to help me squash this rumor.”

  Denise straightened her shoulders. “Of course, sweetie. If something isn’t true, then for sure Maggie ought not be sending it to print.”

  Sally’s stomach lurched. “She isn’t—” She snatched her purse and ran out the door. Stopping to judge the fact that she might not be good behind the wheel in her mental state, she turned on her heel and sprinted down the block to the newspaper office. Checking her watch, she had just enough time to get there if they hadn’t closed early for the day. She stumbled to a halt, holding her stomach as she tried to catch her breath. Her gaze zeroed in on the tiny red, white, and blue clock attached to a plastic suction on the door, turned to the side that read ‘closed.’

  She became a most desperate woman, banging on the door. “Maggie! Maggie!” For a split second she did glance around, grateful that on that particular late Friday afternoon there were few people left, few stores open still. With a sinking feeling, she noted there were no lights on inside the office. She dropped her head against the door, wishing the earth would simply open up and swallow her whole.

  “Sally? Sally Andersen, is that you?”

  Startled to be recognized, she straightened and saw Nathan Smith, having just locked the door to Smith Drug and Radio Shack, walking toward her.

  “Nate. Hey. I was looking for Maggie. I had hoped she’d still be here, it’s kind of important. Looks as though that she’s closed early.” Sally managed a weak smile.

  Nathan was engaged to Charlene Whitecomb—a bit of fact that Sally found very comforting at present. Charlene worked in the End of the Line library housed in the basement of the County courthouse in the middle of the town square.

  “Maggie was in the store earlier today. Mentioned something about meeting her daughter down in Billings for dinner.” He studied her with concern. “Sally, you look a little pale. Can I do something to help you?”

  Sally’s shoulders slumped. Hope deflated inside her. The upside—if one could find one—is that there was no weekend edition of the Daily End Times. The other sliver of hope she clung to was Maggie’s professional integrity. Surely, she’d not go to print without first corroborating the facts with Sally first. “No,” she glanced at Nathan. “I’m fine.” She waved off his concern and adjusted the collar of her coat around her neck, realizing then she’d left her gloves and hat in the truck back at the store. “It’s been a dreadfully long week—for you, too, I’m sure. Nothing one of Dusty’s famous margaritas won’t cure.”

  Nate’s gaze cut across the street where Charlene was walking across the courthouse lawn to meet him.

  “You two have big plans tonight?” Sally asked, grateful to turn her thoughts—and Nate’s—elsewhere.

  “We’re going to catch dinner at Betty’s, and then hit a movie tonight.” He smiled, unable to take his eyes off the petite blonde who returned his smile, her face beaming.

  Sally was happy for them, truly. It’s just being this close to her least favorite holiday was tainting her generosity… that, and recent events. Valentine’s Day for her had become the day she ordered in pizza, coupled with her favorite wine, shut the blinds and read all day in her pajamas. “Sounds lovely. Have a great evening.” She started to walk away, and was surprised when Nate grabbed her arm.

  “Sally,” he said lowering his voice as she took a step closer. “I’m only a pharmacist, but if I might offer some advice?”

  Sally eyed his grasp and detected he was completely serious. “Sure, Nate, what is it?”

  He cleared his throat. “It’s just that too much alcohol can cause issues… especially if, you know….”

  “Know?” Sally prompted, having no idea where Nate was going with this strange conversation.

  “If you’re trying to get pregnant,” he whispered leaning down toward her ear.

  Sally withdrew her arm from his grasp. Maybe he was joking. She waited for him to laugh—tell her he meant nothing by it.

  He didn’t.

  “Does eve
ryone in town know about my life?” she asked. She suddenly felt as though she were the lead in a sitcom gone horribly wrong.

  Nate gave her a brotherly smile. “Just watching out for our own, right?”

  Sally nodded. Could this nightmare get any worse?

  Nate patted her arm, and in the next moment, reached out to take Charlene’s hand.

  “Hi, Sally,” Charlene bubbled forth in a bright, I-have-no-problems-in-the-world voice.

  Sally bit back a sob, and made a beeline for her truck.

  A few moments later, she sat behind the wheel in Dusty’s parking lot. Already several patrons were gathered there, given the number of vehicles in the lot. She gripped the wheel and told herself she should just go home, put a quarantined sign on her door, and call in sick for the next…oh, maybe the next five to ten years. Long enough for people to forget.

  She knew better. Hell, people still talked about Nate’s grandfather, a decorated WWII veteran, who one Friday night decided to streak across the football field during the halftime band performance in solidarity of his peer’s request for a nude beach day as part of the resident activities at the Sunnyside Nursing Home.

  George Smith was apprehended and eventually set free on bond. A couple of band members quit the band. The nursing home allowed George to stay, but nude beach day never happened. Still, it didn’t stop folks from reminiscing now and then, just for a good laugh.

  Sally figured she didn’t have a prayer of people forgetting this rumor anytime soon. She noted Aimee’s SUV and Liberty’s truck and knew her friends were inside waiting for her. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her keys and bag, and walked in to face the proverbial music, with her head held high.

  ***

  Rein glanced at Clay. “You’re sure you don’t want to come on back to the ranch? Wyatt’s making his famous chili, and if Gracie behaves, we might get in a game of poker.”

  Clay watched his friend load the last of his tools in the lockbox in the back of the truck. He reached inside the cab of his truck and slipped a relatively clean sweatshirt over the shirt he’d been working in all day. He’d gotten used to the altitude of the mountains finally, far removed from his Texas roots or even California, where he’d lived for a short time with his sister. But the air had turned colder as the sun started to set—colder as in the Polar Vortex variety. “Might join you later. I told Tyler I’d meet him for a beer over at Dusty’s.”

  Rein grinned as he yanked open the driver’s-side door. “Be careful. I hear the girls are meeting there tonight to discuss this year’s bachelor auction.”

  Clay frowned. He hadn’t lived in this area for too long, and frankly, he didn’t know how much longer he’d stick around. But being single, his interest was piqued. “What’s that all about?”

  Rein shrugged into his Carhartt jacket. “Every spring the town’s Chamber puts on what they call the Montana Buckle Ball. It’s normally held at the high school gym. I went one year, but Wyatt and Dalton could never be convinced.”

  “Convinced… of what?” Clay flipped through his wallet to check his finances for the evening.

  “To take part in the bachelor auction. They get five or so single guys in town, dress them up, and auction them off to the highest bidder for a date.”

  Clay glanced up. Was he serious?

  Rein continued, “The proceeds from the bids go toward charity. One year it was the End of the Line fire department; another it was the Billings Children’s Hospital. I heard they were talking about the recipient being the Billings Women’s and Children’s Shelter that Ellie just opened this past year. Heard she was already running out of room in that big old house we helped her with. That lady does some amazing work down there.”

  While Clay agreed, and he’d happily offer a donation to Ellie for her shelter, he knew how to say no. “Thanks for the two-minute warning. Might be a good idea for Tyler, though. Seems like he’s kind of ready to settle down.”

  Rein scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I tried to find a way to hook him up with Sally.”

  Clay nodded. “Yeah, I heard something about that.”

  “You did?” Rein asked.

  “Pretty much the whole town knows, bro.” Clay smiled. Did the guy really not get how fast news like that can travel in a small town? “Sally didn’t seem too keen on the idea when Dalton asked her about it.”

  His friend sighed. “Yeah. I’ve known Sally a long time. She and I tried dating once or twice.”

  “And?” Why this bit of information should interest him, he didn’t know, but it did.

  “Didn’t really work out. We decided we were better off as friends,” Rein answered.

  His reply dredged up a few questions in Clay’s mind, but he thought it best to let them slide. “Well, listen, I better head out. See you later?”

  Clay wasn’t thrilled about the idea of being in a crowded room of potentially drunk folks tonight. Most of his weekend nights had been spent down in his cabin, parked on his couch watching old movies or practicing his shooting skills in Call of Duty. Still, Tyler had asked him and so he stuffed his keys in his pocket and sauntered up to the door.

  Despite the no-smoking sign on the door, it was clear that at one time it’d been allowed. The musty odor of stale smoke seemed infused in the rough-hewn floors, and walls. Clay had come up to Dusty’s a couple of times with Dalton. He liked Dusty. Seemed like a nice guy. Treated everyone the same.

  “Hey, Clay, good to see you. The place is pretty full tonight.” Dusty leaned against the end of the bar, talking to Clay as though he was the only guy in the place. “If you’re looking for Dalton, I haven’t seen him.”

  Clay scanned the room, and while he told himself he was looking for Tyler, he knew that was a lie. His gaze landed on Sally Andersen seated in a booth at the end of the room. She was with Liberty, Aimee, and Angelique and a young woman who’d pulled up a chair at the end.

  Not that he cared. His gaze zeroed in on that insanely red hair she had wrapped up in some clip, a few corkscrew tendrils falling gently around her face. Travesty for hair like that to be held prisoner in a hair clip. She glanced over. He was pleased when her eyes met his. He felt a sucker punch to his gut and forced a quick smile.

  “Clay!”

  He glanced with half-interest toward where he’d heard his name being called. There was Tyler, hand raised, waving him to a table. He checked only once as he wove through the crowded tables to see if Sally was watching, but she’d gone back to her friends.

  “Hey, glad you could make it. I was about to order.” Tyler caught the attention of a waitress.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Dixie, and I’ll be serving you tonight.” She looked at both men, and her gaze lingered on Clay. “What can I get you, cowboy?”

  “You have any specials tonight?” Clay asked, avoiding how the woman was eyeing him.

  “Dusty’s burger is on special. Comes with one side. Draws are only two dollars if you order the burger.”

  “Sounds good,” Tyler answered. “Bring me a Guinness stout.”

  “I’ll have the same,” Clay responded, handing Dixie the menu.

  She took both menus and smiled at Clay as she left.

  Tyler, looking a tad nervous, leaned forward. “Hey, did you hear about Sally?”

  Lately, she seemed to be popping up in his life. Even so, he’d never been much for small town gossip. He’d grown up in a sleepy little town down in Texas, the kind of place where you never locked your doors. Which is how his dad had been found sleeping with one of the waitresses of the Dairy Sweet—when her husband came home early from his night shift at work. That pretty much changed his life. He and his sister wound up in a trailer court outside of town. She used to clean people’s houses for a living, take in ironing. He’d hated it. “Nope.” He scanned the room, hoping that Tyler would sense his disinterest.

  “Rumor has it that she’s looking for a baby daddy.”

  What the fuck? He had to hold back from grabbing Tyler by
his plaid snap shirt. “Man, did you just hear yourself?”

  Tyler put his hands up in defense. “Hey, I didn’t start it.”

  “I thought Sally was your friend,” Clay challenged him with a pointed look.

  “Well, she is.” Tyler appeared to get the idea he might have been talking too loud. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “If Sally wants a baby, that’s cool. I understand she just doesn’t want a husband to go with it.”

  Clays gut clenched. “You know that doesn’t sound like Sally. Come on. I hope you’re not perpetuating this kind of crap, because that’s what it is, crap.” Clay looked over at Sally and watched as she listened attentively to Aimee explaining something. Yeah, she was too smart to even think of such a thing. Not having a dad, even as old as he was, was a bitch.

  “You’re the only one I’ve said anything to about it. Thought maybe she might have mentioned something to you, is all.” Tyler looked up and beamed at Dixie as she placed their food and drinks on the table.

  “You boys let me know if you’ll be needing anything else.” Dixie offered Clay a wink. Tyler had already dived into his food.

  “Where’d you hear this?” Clay asked after taking a healthy drink of his beer.

  “Over at Betty’s the other day—at breakfast with some of the guys in town.” Tyler took a minute to chew his food and swallow. “We were talking about the Buckle Ball and how Sally’s in charge of that this year.”

  “Yeah, I heard something about a bachelor auction,” Clay remarked.

  Tyler nodded. “Exactly. Then Sam says that Wyatt came in the other day and sort of let it slip that she was thinking of starting a family.”

  “That doesn’t mean a thing. Women talk about that stuff all the time.”

  Tyler tilted his head. “True, but Wyatt said that Aimee was concerned because Sally had mentioned using unconventional methods.”