Page 9 of All in with the Maverick Montana

“I spoke to Iris Strom. She mentioned that Faith said you’d been in the store, talking to some girl named Amy.”

“Yes, because she works there.” Josh sighed. Sometimes small towns were just too dang small. “She was helping me find the feed.”

“Well, is she—” His mother cut off. “Oh, Josh, I have to go. Your father’s found the bacon. Harry! Harold, that’s enough.”

He laughed. “Okay, Mom. You two have a good trip.”

“I’ll send you pictures. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about this Amy person. I want to hear—”

“Think that reception’s getting a little spotty, Mom.”

“Nice try.”

“I’ve gotta go. Love you.” Josh hung up before his mother could finish her sentence about Amy. There was nothing to tell, because they’d only had one conversation. And after the way things went with his last girlfriend, he didn’t need to get his mother’s hopes up.

Despite all that, Amy was still there, hanging out at the edge of his thoughts. Josh figured there was only one thing to do. He rushed through the rest of his chores and got into his truck, then drove down to Strom and Son Feed and Farm Supply.

He pulled into the parking lot, glancing at the front of the building.

What the hell was he doing?

Josh cut the ignition.

He hadn’t driven all the way out here just because his mother had asked about Amy. Okay, not just because his mother had asked. It was because he didn’t know how else to get her off his mind. That was the only reason. He needed to be able to focus on the ranch, and he couldn’t do that if she kept popping into his thoughts.

Maybe Noah and Ryder were right. He should ask her out. What did he have to lose? His heart thumped in his chest. Putting himself out there again felt like a big step, one he didn’t know if he was ready to take. But he’d already come this far. It would be ridiculous to turn back now without even trying.

Chapter Three

Amy stood on the top of a stepladder in the middle of aisle three, the back of her hand pressed to her lips as a wave of nausea as strong as an angry bull threatened to bowl her over. Where the hell did this come from? She didn’t know if it was the lingering scent of hay that Caleb had just restocked in the warehouse or something on one of the shelves, but the cloying scent was turning her stomach like a blender. Amy clutched the shelf in front of her and took a deep, steadying breath.

She wasn’t actually going to be sick, was she? Right here? In the middle of the store? She was too far away from the bathroom. She’d never make it. Her best bet would be to head for the trash can behind the cash desk but even that would be a risky dash.

Amy squeezed her eyes shut, willing everything in her stomach to settle. The nausea swept through her again, lingering on the back of her tongue, and she was almost afraid to swallow. Amy didn’t often feel like this. The only time she did was during early morning rodeo training when she was doing a lot of activity and hadn’t eaten enough.

And sure, maybe she’d skipped out on breakfast this morning. But who could blame her? Faith had been trying to stuff some turkey bacon-shaped something on a whole grain bagel in her hand, and that had sounded entirely unappealing. Though Amy usually turned her nose up at most of Faith’s healthy choices—flax seed, quinoa, steel cut oats. It all just tasted like cardboard as far as Amy was concerned. Faith would have to pry real bacon out of her cold, dead hands. Amy had intended to grab breakfast when she got to the store. There was a cute little diner up the road that she’d been meaning to try for weeks, only she’d started stocking shelves and now it was almost lunchtime.

Still, this wasn’t exactly the most arduous of tasks, and she’d skipped breakfast before, surviving on nothing but coffee and creamer. She shouldn’t be feeling nauseated and slightly dizzy and tired.

Why was she so tired all of a sudden?

Amy fought off a yawn, worried that if she opened her mouth, it could be disastrous as far as the nausea was concerned. She clutched the shelf and took a short, even breath in through her nose. Then another. And another.

Slowly, the uncomfortable wave passed and Amy breathed easier.

There. All better.

She clearly needed to get some fresh air and some food into her. She’d no sooner thought about food than the nausea was back, so strong Amy clasped her hand over her mouth, certain she would be sick this time. Okay, time to take a break, she thought. From stocking. From the store. From the overwhelming scent of sickly-sweet hay. She just needed to get away from it all. But moving felt like a really bad idea.

What she needed was a distraction. Something to take her mind off the way her stomach was churning and bubbling, and the goose bumps that flushed down her arms, and the prickly heat that was suddenly creeping up her neck.

The bell over the front door jingled and Amy really hoped it wasn’t a customer that was going to need her help. She didn’t really feel like she was in any condition to be gathering up orders or showing people around.

“Well, look who it is!” Faith’s voice soared over the sound of the bell, tinged with surprise. “Or should I say, look who the horse dragged in?”

“Sorry, I just came from the barn.” That voice was familiar. Amy craned her head, looking down the aisle from the top of the stepladder. She couldn’t quite see more than the corner of the cash desk. “I didn’t even think about changing.”

A figure stepped into view. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Long brown hair swept back, showing off a strong jawline. It was him.