Vivian Arend - Rocky Mountain Rebel

Vicki spent all Friday dropping off resumes around town, managing—barely—to ignore the snarky comments at a few places. She collapsed onto the couch and stared at the ceiling, flipping through the nasty comebacks she hadn’t voiced.

Fuck them for being small-minded, small-town bigots.

From flat on her back, not only the ceiling but the kitchen and the door to the bathroom were visible. Her couch was a daybed she turned into her real bed for the night. The tiny bachelor suite had everything she needed to be independent, but at times, man, did the walls close in.

It was the best she’d been able to manage when she escaped the family home. Hadn’t been easy. None of it. Which made her current lack of job situation even more annoying. She knew better. She knew she needed to keep her cool.

The wind rustled the curtains, bringing fall air to swirl around her. The moment’s refreshment helped her refocus, and her breathing calmed.

Okay. She’d blown it. But it wasn’t the end of the world—not yet. She’d planned and saved and scrimped. She had a couple months’ rent squirreled away, and hopefully Joel’s job lead would play out in her favour.

Joel.

She shouldn’t think about him. Shouldn’t imagine his gorgeous eyes focused on her for real. In a time and place she could give in and take a little pleasure.

Vicki scrambled to her feet. Nope. The option was totally out of the question. Even if the Coleman twins weren’t known as sexual whirlwinds, Joel was in a whole different camp. The kind of kids who back in school wandered the hallways taking up more than their share of space and attention. It wasn’t as if the better-off folks in Rocky wore a lot of designer jeans or fancy duds, but the Colemans and the Hansols were not in the same pecking order, and she knew it.

Joel might have worn hand-me-downs from his big brothers, but they were always clean and well mended. Vicki had made sure her and her sister Lynn’s stuff was always washed, although it meant learning how to do their own laundry at ten years old, but there were no hand-me-downs she wanted to wear.

The phone rang, and she grabbed it. “Hello?”

“Vicki Hansol?”

“Yes.”

“Mark Orson at Orson’s Hardware. You put in an application for the position in the stockroom.”

Vicki straightened, even though the instinctive move was invisible. “Yes, sir. I’m looking for full-time hours. I have a recommendation from my—”

“Skip it. My manager was in the café yesterday right before you got your walking papers.”

Shit . Bubbles burst even before the job offer was on the table. “I see. Well, thank you for calling.”

The man’s laugh broke over the line. “Slow down, girl. I’m not brushing you off. In fact, from what Davis told me about the situation, I like your spunk. If you’re a hard worker, I can use you. It’s minimum wage to start, salary increases quarterly if things work out. Two-week trial, though, to make sure you fit in with the boys.”

Vicki clutched the phone in shock. “Really? I mean, that would be fabulous. When do you want me to start?”

“Come in Monday at seven a.m. I’ll get you to fill in the paperwork, and you can pull a shift.” Mark paused for a minute. “You’ll be working with a full crew of guys. Can you handle that?”

Since Eric didn’t work there, she figured she’d be okay. “No problem.”

She crossed her fingers she wasn’t lying through her teeth.

“I’ll find a spare coverall for you to wear. My daughter used to work in the shop before she moved away, and I think she left a couple around.”

“Thank you.”

Vicki hung up somewhat in shock. Only one-day unemployed and back into the swing of things. Stocking shelves was far safer as well. Sherry had been right. Eric was at the café all the time. He’d never pop his head into a hardware and seed shop. Probably had fancy mechanics and other flunkies to do his manual labour.

The world looked a tiny bit brighter. She slipped to the wall calendar and added a couple notes. October stretched before her, and the happy little image of a cartoon turkey decorating Thanksgiving Day mocked her.

Should she try to get together with her family, or was that asking for more heartache?

The thumbtack holding the calendar to the wall nudged loose and everything fell to the floor, the pages flipping like some fancy art shot in a movie, and Vicki stilled. Months spinning past. Her life whirling away, minimum wage and dead-end jobs. Tossing her fists every time someone made a comment about her family.

Was that all she had to look forward to?

God, she was an emotional mess today. She hauled open the fridge and grabbed a Coke, plopping down on the edge of the mattress harder than she should. When the creaking settled, she glanced around, shaking her head in frustration.

Tiny apartment. A small pile of clothing. Her motorbike—so little to show for her life so far. Not even a high school diploma.

Nothing but her pride, and lately even that kept taking a bruising.

And yet…

She’d made a difference when it counted the most. She nabbed the picture frame from beside the bed, the one showcasing her middle sister. Lynn’s innocent smile shone out with unmarred joy.

You were strong enough to do what’s right. The words whispered through her head.

She just had to believe it.

The phone rang, and she snatched it up, panicked for a moment that Mark had changed his mind. “Hello?”

“Hi, Vicki, it’s Karen Coleman. You got a minute?”

Well now, this was unexpected. Karen belonged to another of the local Coleman clans—the Whiskey Creek side. The woman had gone to school with Vicki’s oldest sister. Vicki swung to vertical so she was seated comfortably and listened carefully. “No problem. What’s up?”

“I’ve got a far-out idea, and I want to run it past you. Remember when you helped at that kids’ camp a couple years ago? You were the chef’s assistant, right?”

A shiver shook Vicki as memories swept in, but somehow she kept her voice steady. “Yeah?”

“I’m trying to organize something for next summer, and I thought of you. It’s not set in stone yet, but if things work out the way I hope, I’ll be running weeklong camps in the Willmore Wilderness Park. I’m coordinating the horses and wranglers, all that side. My partner has already got a head cook lined up, but he’ll need help. I thought of you.”

Two job offers in one day? Maybe life was taking a turn for the better.

“When would it start?”

“First trips with customers begin the May long weekend. We’d get together early in the month to make sure things are in place, then you’d work in shifts through the summer. I’ve got a friend who has an on-site camp you could move to on your days off. It’s a pretty transient job, but I figured you might enjoy the change of pace. Plus, you get to ride horses to the job site and out—fun stuff.”

Elation at the idea of getting the hell out of Rocky mixed with instant terror as Vicki heard she would have to ride.

God, how was it possible to simultaneously feel two conflicting emotions like this? She’d love to move away. She’d love the cooking. The rest of it? Not so much.

Her mouth had gone dry with fear. “When will you know details?”

“I hope to have all the contracts in place by early January. I figure that would give you enough warning. And Vicki? The dude ranch I’m coordinating with always seems to need a new full-time assistant-chef come the fall. If they like what they see over the summer, there’s a chance they’d hire you full time for the winter season.”

The trap caging her in edged open a crack.