I blinked. She served…face? What the hell did that mean? “Like…Salome?”
“Who is Salome? Is she a model?” She picked up a boot, studied it, then returned it to the rack.
What did models have to do with anything? “In the Bible. Salome dances for the king, and he likes it so much that he tells her he will grant her one favor. She goes to her mother and asks what she should request. Her mother wants the head of John the Baptist. So Salome demands his death and serves his head to her mother on a platter.”
Lennon stilled, then slowly pivoted to face me. “Ifthe king owed me a favor, I wouldn’t waste it on my mother. If she wants a favor from him, then she can shake her own ass in his direction. My ass, my favor.” With that, she spun back to the shoes.
I cleared my throat. “That’s fair.”
“Damn right it is,” she muttered.
After trying on a few pairs, she selected one to her satisfaction, and we headed for the register. She paused by the rack of coats on post-season sale.
“It gets cold at night. I wasn’t really expecting that.” She pulled one off the rack and held it up. “I didn’t bring a coat or any kind of long sleeves except my hoodie.”
“Some nights could get below freezing. We also take some rides to higher elevations. You will definitely want a coat for that.”
Nodding absently, she ran her hand down the sleeve until she found the price tag dangling from the cuff. She chewed her lip, then shook her head, carefully placing the coat back on the rack. “I think I can get by with my hoodie. I mean, it’s notthatcold.”
I squinted at the tag, brow furrowed. Money was tight for most of our guests—firefighters, EMTs, and most military didn’t take home big paychecks, which was why we subsidized with donations and ranch work—but Lennon had never fit that mold. Everything about her screamed wealth. Her fancy designer sunglasses cost more than one of these clearance coats.
“The ranch will cover it,” I said.
“Really?” Her lips parted in surprise, but then her eyes narrowed. “The ranch will cover it, oryouwill?”
I shrugged. “It’s all the same.”
Her expression hardened. “No, it’s not. And no, thank you.” She turned away, muttering, “Too good to be true. Men paying for shit is what got me here in the first place.”
My stomach clenched. I didn’t like the sound of that at all. What men? And what the hell did they do that brought her here? It was none of my business. I had told Holly that, and I stood by it. Everyone here had secrets. Things they had seen. Things they had done. If Lennon had been any other guest at this ranch, I wouldn’t push. I would let her talk about it on her own terms. But I knew I wasn’t going to do that. Not this time. Whatever had brought Lennon here, I intended to find out.
But I wasn’t going to let her freeze to death while I did that.
“Then borrow one of mine. It might be loose in the shoulders, but you’re tall. It should fit you well enough.”
She eyed me like she thought it was a trap. “Really?”
“Sure.”
“Okay.” But she kept right on looking at me like she was waiting for the catch. “Thank you.”
“It’s not a problem.”
We walked to the register and I bit my tongue against the urge to offer to pay for her boots. She wouldn’t accept it, and nothing I had would fit her.There had been a time when I’d had to accept charity from strangers, and no matter how kindly it was offered, it never ceased to sting a little. Maybe Lennon felt the same way, but I had a feeling it went deeper than that. It was more than pride with her. She doubted my motives.
Lennon handed over her credit card at the register. My jaw tightened as I realized there was no name on the card. It was one of those Visa gift cards that anyone could use. Maybe it was nothing.Maybe. But in my experience, little bits of nothing had a way of adding up to something.
Feeling my gaze on her, she glanced back at me, bouncing on her toes slightly like she was preparing to run—her fight or flight instinct kicking in. Looked like Lennon was a bolter. I focused my attention elsewhere to let her know I wasn’t a threat. Because a hairpin trigger like that? It was learned.
I didn’t know what brought a woman like Lennon Graves to a place like Mercy River Ranch. And I for damn sure didn’t trust her.
But I fucking hated that she didn’t trust me, either.
7
LENNON
There wassomething not right about this place.
