“Why does he look like that?”
“Like what?”
Emily screwed her face into a scowl.“Like he sucked on a lemon.”
“Maybe he did.”
Her daughter retrieved her doll from the grass and stuck two fingers in her mouth.Vanessa had been trying to cure her of the finger-sucking habit, with no luck.She pushed a box of books to the floor, along with her medical bag and Emily’s booster seat.After she’d cleared a narrow space, she used her yoga mat and some fluffy beach towels for padding.Then she tossed a couple of blankets on top.
Vanessa surveyed her work with satisfaction.When life gave you lemons, you made lemonade.She let Emily crawl into the back seat with Penelope.The little girl seemed unfazed by the arrangement, or too sleepy to start another ruckus.Vanessa was about to join her when she spotted Paul emerging from the cabin.He retrieved something from his truck.After tinkering around for a minute, he locked the vehicle and put the keys in his pocket.She noted that he’d donned shoes for this errand.
He glanced her direction, his brow furrowed.After a short pause, he stepped forward.“Are you having car trouble?”
“No,” Vanessa said.
He squinted in the dark.“Man trouble?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and saw his eyes dip to follow the motion.“None of your business.”
“You’re in my front yard.”
“This isn’t your yard.It’s a parking space.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed.“If you want to park overnight, there’s a campground less than a mile away.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she said.“But I’m okay right here.”
He weighed her words without any visible reaction.“You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who sleeps in her vehicle.”
Vanessa peered into the back seat, where Emily was snuggled up with her doll.“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you’re not from Colorado.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your vehicle has Colorado plates,” he said.“It’s a recent purchase, judging by the sale sticker on the front window.Maybe you traded in a flashier, more expensive model.I’m guessing you left a man behind, probably that girl’s daddy.”
She tapped her fingertips on her upper arms.“Are you done?”
His gaze didn’t follow the motion.“Your accent has faded a little, but I reckon you’re from South Texas.”
She bristled at his use of the wordreckon, which sounded mocking.She was proud of her heritage and she didn’t like his intuitive assessment of her situation.Instead of admitting that all of his guesses were correct, she looked him up and down.The cowboy hat on the countertop was a basic cattleman style, popular with working men throughout the region.But his own speech indicated a city upbringing, the words clipped and conformed to the point of being indistinguishable from the rest of the country.
Vanessa turned her body away from the vehicle so Emily couldn’t overhear.“Let’s talk about you.”
He gave a stiff shrug.“Go for it.”
“You’re clearly an outsider, despite the backwoods truck.Even without the flat accent and lack of hospitality, I can spot a down-on-his-luck city boy a mile away.Why are you here?Did you lose your job at the refinery?”
His lips quirked at the dig, as if he found it amusing.
“You’re past thirty, already divorced or never married, just some hard-knocks roughneck from Dallas or Houston.How did you get injured?”
The last question hit a nerve, judging by his steely expression.He smelled like medicine and he had the aura of a person in pain.She was good at guessing games too, and she felt a surge of satisfaction at identifying a weakness in him.
“Is someone looking for you?”he asked.
“No one’s looking for me.”
