which surprised him. What would a big-city woman have to talk about that much with someone she’d just met in a small town in Montana?
He studied Francine, noting how her face lit up when she laughed. She seemed much more relaxed now. More like the Frankie he called her in his head.
Picking up the rest of the items he needed for the ranch, he then headed for the hat section. He picked one out for Johnny that matched his own.
He set it on the counter with his other items as Marge set down a stack of clothes for Francine. He noticed there were some women’s jeans and shirts, even a hat and boots.
“Oh! I forgot a hat for John Allen,” Frankie said, starting to walk away.
“I got him one,” he said, pulling his wallet out.
She walked back to the counter and took it from his stack and laid it on hers. “Thanks.”
He pulled it back. “I said, I got it.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I want to.”
She glanced at the price tag, and bit her lip. “It’s kind of pricey for such a small hat.”
A bitter taste coated his tongue, and his lip curled up. “I can afford it. I’m not the poor ranch hand your dad accuses me of being. I had fun with Johnny, and I want to get this for him. He’s a great kid.”
She held her hands up. “That’s not what I meant at all. Sorry if I offended you... That’s sweet of you. I know he’ll love it.”
They finished their transactions, and as they left the store, Wyatt’s stomach growled. He stowed their packages in the back seat of the truck, then closed his door. “You want breakfast?”
“No, thanks. But I will have some coffee.”
They entered the diner next door, and Sadie followed them in.
Frankie looked at him. “Are dogs allowed in the diner?”
He waved at one of the waitresses, then opened a screen door to another room. 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
