Wyoming Winter. Diana Palmer
Читать онлайн книгу.
brought five dollars,” she said, glancing around. “Let’s see how long it lasts!”
He was privately of the opinion that she’d lose it in the first three minutes, but he only nodded.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, she was still playing.
“This has to be some sort of record,” he said when the fruits lined up on the screen for her.
“I’m lucky,” she said, distracted. She glanced up at him. “Otherwise, I’d never be here with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re gorgeous, J.C.,” she said softly, and her eyes echoed it. “You could have any woman you wanted, but you’re going around with me.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Everything,” she said miserably. “I’m not pretty.”
He scowled. “Of course you’re pretty,” he said curtly. “You have wonderful qualities. You’re kind and sweet and you never complain, even when you should.”
She flushed.
“I mean that,” he added, sketching her face. “You remind me of my mother, in a way. She had that incurable optimism.” His face hardened. “She was almost too kind and forgiving.”
She wanted so badly to ask what had happened to his mother, but the machine sang out and she laughed and threw up her hands. “Look! I won again!”
He glanced at his watch. “And I hate to break this up, but it’s a long drive home. Your father won’t appreciate it if I get you home in the wee hours of the morning. I’ve probably gotten you in enough trouble, just bringing you here.”
She stood up. “It was my choice, too,” she told him. “Daddy doesn’t interfere. He counsels, which is a different thing.”
He drew in a long breath. “We come from very different backgrounds,” he said after a minute.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It might, one day,” he replied. His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to get mixed up with you.”
“Gee, thanks, I like you, too,” she mused.
“I wish I could just walk away,” he said huskily. He touched her face with long, gentle fingers. “I can’t.”
Her heart jumped up into her throat. It was the most encouraging thing he’d said to her so far.
“You may wish that I had, Colie,” he said quietly. “I meant what I said. I’m not interested in white picket fences and babies.”
“You said that before. I’m not trying to change you, J.C. You really can’t change people,” she added.
“That’s my point.”
She just stared at him, so much in love that she wondered if her feet were really touching the floor as she met his searching gaze and felt her breath suspended as her heart ran wild.
He ground his teeth together. “We should go. Let’s collect your winnings and call it a night.”
She was delighted with her small win. It was only about a month’s salary, but it would help catch up on some bills and let her add a few minutes a month to her phone messaging.
She said so.
J.C., who had money stashed away in offshore accounts as well as his local bank, frowned.
She saw the look. “I make a nice salary, but it doesn’t go very far,” she told him. “I help with the bills and I pay for my cell phone. It’s not top of the line, but it has a few features. I pay for gas for my old truck that has mechanical issues every other week. I pay for the internet because I’m the one who uses it, mostly. Rod helps, because he games. He does love his console life.”
“He always liked gaming,” he replied. He didn’t tell her that Rodney had changed a lot with his overseas duty. That happened to men who were raised with solid beliefs. It was challenging to retain them when you saw so much death and torture in the military.
“What are you thinking about so hard?” she wondered as they drove back home down snow-lined roads toward Catelow.
“I was remembering my service overseas, with Rod,” he said. “It isn’t something I talk about. I don’t imagine Rod shared any of it with you, either.”
“Not really. He had nightmares when he first came home. He didn’t say why. He and Daddy talked about it, but not in front of me.” She glanced at him. “Daddy fought in the first Gulf War,” she added. “He was a chaplain, but he was on the front lines.”
“That must have been hard on him,” he said.
“Very hard. He said it challenged his faith, seeing the misery of the people he encountered.”
“Life challenged mine,” he said shortly. “I lost what little I had when I was ten.”
She was curious. Very curious. But she didn’t speak.
He drew in a breath. “My father worked in mining, after he and my mother married,” he began. “It was hard work. Not what he’d planned for himself. He wanted to own a ranch. He thought if he worked hard and saved his money, he’d be able to buy land, build a house, start a herd of cattle. But it didn’t happen.” His eyes stared straight ahead as the windshield wipers slid rhythmically over the windshield, wiping away flurries of snow. “He was trapped. Mom got pregnant with me, and suddenly there were doctor bills and all the debt that comes with a baby. There was nothing left over every week. Mom couldn’t work, because there was nobody who could take care of me, and they couldn’t afford help.”
“There are government agencies,” she began.
He laughed shortly. “My father was a proud man,” he returned. “He refused to even speak of it. He tried to get my mother to contact her people and ask for a loan. She wouldn’t do it.” He glanced at her. “They disowned her when she married my father. They had deep prejudices.”
What he’d said, about the differences between his parents, suddenly made sense. “That was sad.”
“Prejudice doesn’t have a home,” he said simply. “So they soldiered on. Mom said he started drinking soon after I was born. Dreams die hard. He couldn’t bear the loss of his.” His big hand gripped the steering wheel hard. His free hand found hers and linked her fingers with his. It helped the pain. “She wanted to go to a meeting at the local school that I attended, for parents. I was ten and I was watching a movie on television. I didn’t want to go. She said I could stay home, it didn’t matter. My father complained because he didn’t want to go, but she pleaded. She got in the car with him. He’d been drinking all day.”
She tightened her fingers in his.
“He took a curve too fast and went off into the river. She drowned while he swam to shore.”
“Oh, gosh,” she ground out.
“I didn’t know until the local police came to the door. My father ran for his life. He’d have gone to jail without a doubt, under the circumstances. My mother was dead. Something inside me died with her. I haven’t seen my father or spoken to him since,” he added curtly. “I was placed in state custody until I was adopted by a kind older couple who didn’t have any kids of their own. They were well-to-do. I was spoiled. But it didn’t quite make up for what I’d lost. And I didn’t live with them long, just until the fire that took their lives.”
“What about your mother’s people?” she wondered.
“Dead,” he said icily. “I wouldn’t have known, but I turned out to be the only legal heir they had. I inherited their estate.” Which amounted to a few million dollars, but he didn’t say so.
“I’m