Randall Riches

“Fifty to split. Too much?”

He shook his head. “Nope. A bargain.”

She said nothing, heading to the back of the trailer.

He got out and started toward the office, but he looked back to see if she could manage Bella okay. She was right about Bella’s manners…if she liked the person. If not, she could be difficult. But she was on her best behavior today.

No wonder. Sam was petting and stroking her, using that sexy voice. He recognized envy in his thoughts. Ridiculous! All he was interested in was getting home.

Inside, he paid for Bella’s stay and then went out to help Sam put her in a corral and toss her some hay.

“We can get rooms next door,” he pointed out as they left Bella.

“She’ll be safe?”

“Yeah. There’s someone on duty all night.”

She got behind the wheel of the truck and drove the few yards to the hotel. There was a café attached that had decent food. After dinner, Rich was looking forward to stretching out on a soft bed that didn’t move.

“After we get the rooms, we can eat in the café.” He was sure she was tired, too. She’d driven over ten hours without many breaks.

“I don’t need a room.”

He frowned. “Of course you need a room.”

“I don’t want to spend my money on a room.”

“It’s my money you’ll be spending,” he pointed out.

“No, I won’t. I pay my own way.”

“Consider it pay for doing your job,” he said, sure that would settle the matter.

“No.”

“What’s wrong with you, woman? You expect to camp out?”

“No. I’ll sleep in the cab of the truck.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” He was becoming perturbed. “You’ll be uncomfortable.”

“I wasn’t the past two nights.” She slung her shoulder bag onto her shoulder and got out of the truck. “I’ll save you a seat in the café.” Then she closed the truck door and walked toward the restaurant.

He sat there with his mouth open. The last two nights? He’d assumed she had an apartment somewhere. Why hadn’t she used it? When he realized he was wasting time, he marched inside the hotel and got a room. He checked to be sure they had more rooms in case Miss Hardhead changed her mind.

Then he strode toward the café next door. He was glad it was close. Even though he had a walking cast, his ankle still hurt every time he put weight on his right side. But he walked quickly.

Sam was sitting in a booth, the hair around her face damp. When he appeared at the table, she asked. “Is decaf coffee all right?”

“Yeah, fine. I’m going to wash up.”

When he got back, the waitress was chatting with Sam. He slid in the booth.

“Do you need some time, honey, to check the menu?” she asked.

“Nope. I’ll take a cheeseburger with fries, and a big piece of apple pie afterward. They have good pie, Sam.”

“I’ve already ordered,” she said calmly.

“Did you order pie?”

“No.”

“Bring her a piece of pie, too,” he said to the waitress. The woman looked at Sam, and she shook her head, still smiling.

Then she looked at Rich. “I can order for myself, thank you.”

He considered fighting that battle. Then he decided she was right. She had the right to order for herself. Besides, he wanted some answers to his questions.

When the waitress left, he asked, “What do you mean you slept in the truck the last two nights? Why? Didn’t you have your own place in Flagstaff?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you sleep in your own bed.”

She took a drink of water. He noticed she hadn’t ordered a soda or coffee. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Brad was there.”

His stomach clinched. She had a boyfriend? Or a husband? “Who’s Brad?”

“The owner of The Hot Skillet.”

“The one who fired you?” he asked, frowning. “You lived with him?”

“No.”

“Then why was he there?”

“He was parked outside.”

The waitress returned with his cheeseburger and a chef’s salad for Sam.

“That’s all you ordered?”

She looked surprised. “Yes.”