Page 2 of Tempting Fate
“Just trying to help you pull off the look,” she said. “No self-respecting rancher wears a straw cowboy hat in December, just saying.”
“Good thing I’m not a rancher.”
“Good thing.”
His eyes took a long, leisurely stroll down her Wranglers. You could take the girl out of Nugget, but you couldn’t take Nugget out of the girl. She had a closet full of designer jeans in every color. In LA you could easily pay three hundred dollars for denim. But nothing got between her and her Wranglers. From the gleam in Gabe’s eye, he wished he could. But she was done trying to impress men. Her father, Butch…she was done.
He lifted his gaze to her face. “You better hurry if you’re planning to make dinner.”
She glanced at her watch. There was still plenty of time to pick up the items Annie needed. The whole point of this expedition was to get out of the house and avoid the neighbors, who were over at the farmhouse to help Annie set up for the dinner. She and Logan had been in remodel hell since they bought the place last summer and had only recently moved in. Annie had wanted an August wedding but they’d had to speed things up a bit, otherwise the bride would’ve had to walk down the aisle in a maternity dress. Raylene shuddered. A baby Rosser. Crazy.
“Are you bringing that?” She pointed at the beer and Ruffles.
“Yeah, why? You think I should get barbecue, instead?”
She rolled her eyes and grabbed the bag. Sour cream and onion. “Hey, you’re the best man. If you think bringing potato chips to pre-wedding festivities is appropriate, there’s no hope for you.”
“Give me a break, Ray. I’m bringing a case of Veuve Clicquot.” He held up the Ruffles and the six-pack of Bud. “These are for me.”
She gave Gabe a quick scan. The man could eat chips and drink beer until the cows came home. Washboard abs under his thermal shirt, lean hips encased in denim, and not an ounce of fat on him. Butch had had to switch to light beer because he was getting a gut. He used to stare at himself in the mirror until it made Raylene nuts. Poor Butch, no longer able to reel in the young rodeo queens as easily as he once had.
“Well, nice chatting with you.” She waited for him to leave, hoping he’d take a hint so she could figure out a way to sneak out of the market sight unseen. Graeagle was just a few minutes up the road; she’d buy her groceries there. They were probably cheaper there anyway, and she had to make her money last.
But Gabe stayed put. Either he was dense as Denver or he wanted to witness her humiliation.
“If you want, I’ll help you finish your shopping and walk you to Ethel’s cash register.” He winked. “Safety in numbers.”
“No thanks, I’m good.” She dropped the basket on the floor and told herself screw it. There was a time in this town when the residents bowed down to a Rosser. She’d walk out of the market with her head held high.
She marched past Gabe, through the center of the store, and watched as Ethel and Donna did double takes. They immediately exchanged glances, probably wondering if she’d heard every cruel word they’d said.
Raylene pasted on one of her old barrel-racing smiles and flipped her hair from her collar. “Spill on aisle five.”
Outside, in the parking lot, she let the cold air wash over her, relieved to leave the stuffy market behind. She’d nearly forgotten how frigid Nugget was in the winter. Southern California rarely dipped below fifty degrees. She headed to her truck, noting that Gabe’s big-ass SUV was parked next to her Ford F-150. Knowing her brother, he’d probably bribed Moretti to babysit her and keep her out of trouble. Old reputations were hard to shed.
Yes, there’d been a time when she liked to stir things up. She and her father had left a lot of carnage in their wake. That’s why she knew there’d be daggers out for her the minute she crossed the Plumas County line.
Raylene couldn’t fix what she’d broken. As soon as the wedding was over, as soon as she got what she came for, she could leave. Go back to Los Angeles and start searching for a ranchette in the San Gabriel Valley to raise her cutting horses.
In the meantime, she could handle the dirty looks and the nasty comments spoken behind her back. With practically the whole town coming to the wedding, there would be plenty of whispering. But Rossers were made of stern stuff, she told herself, pressing her clicker to unlock her truck.
Except for a charging station for an electric car and a few new shopping cart storage docks, the parking lot was the same as she always remembered. Like her, it was a little frayed around the edges. The letters on the market sign could use a new coat of paint and the building a power washing.
From the corner of her eye she saw a dark-haired woman leaning against her Outback, giving Raylene a steely stare. Cecilia Rodriguez—now Stryker, according to Logan—hadn’t aged a bit. Those high cheek bones still slashed across olive skin on a wrinkleless face. A face Raylene knew as well as her own mother’s.
Raylene stood there awkwardly, letting the seconds stretch to minutes. Finally, Cecilia flipped down her sunglasses from the top of her head and walked away. Raylene watched until she disappeared inside the automatic sliding doors of the Nugget Market, then she let out a breath and climbed into the cab of her Ford. She didn’t realize she was crying until Gabe tapped on her window.
Shit.
She rubbed her eyes, smearing black mascara down her face. Great. When she didn’t immediately respond, he tapped again. Persistent cuss.
She started the ignition and cracked the window just enough to say, “What?”
“You okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She swiped her cheeks with the back of her hands, hoping to conceal evidence to the contrary.
“Dunno, you tell me.”
