Fay Robinson - Coming Home To You

She sidestepped a pile of manure covered with thousands of tiny flies and wished she hadn’t worn open-toed shoes. Wood shavings inadequately covered the dirt floor, which was littered with empty popcorn boxes, cigarette butts and peanut hulls. More than once she’d watched someone spit tobacco juice.

The place was awful. Why would anyone willingly come here? But they did. Hundreds of them. The crowd was so large near the main entrance Kate could barely move. And then she saw what had attracted everyone: along one wall were tables where vendors sold hand-tooled belts, buckles, hats and clothing.

Twenty minutes remained until the horse sale began, so she eased through the crowd and walked up and down the aisles admiring the horses, separated from them by the flimsiest of metal fencing. Their bodies glistened with sweat from the heat, which large exhaust fans at each end of the building couldn’t remove. The air hung hot and heavy with moisture, and the rumble of thunder could be heard over the country songs playing over the public-address system.

She spotted her quarry the same moment he spotted her. Bret Hayes stood at one of the pens talking with two men. His expression instantly turned hard. He said something to the men and stalked toward her.

“Come with me,” he said, roughly grabbing her elbow.

“I don’t think I want to.”

“Too bad.”

She struggled, but it didn’t do any good. He out-weighed her by at least seventy-five pounds and had arms of steel. As he dragged her from the building into the dark night, her brother’s warning to be careful echoed in her head. For once she wished she’d listened to him.

“WERE YOU PUT on this earth to drive me insane?”

In the quiet of the parking lot Bret’s voice came out at a deafening level. He couldn’t believe this annoying woman had tracked him down again. The Saturday night horse sale was one of the few pleasures he had in his life, and he wasn’t about to allow Kathryn Morgan to ruin it like she’d ruined his breakfast.

She stood at the side of his truck and horse trailer. Bret paced the dirt in front of her, afraid that if he stopped moving he might be tempted to put his hands around that pretty throat and squeeze.

How had this one tiny woman been able to plunge him into a living hell in less than forty-eight hours? She’d shot holes in what he’d come to think of as a comfortable, if not perfect, life. Like grit, her abrasive personality rubbed him raw.

He’d bitten back what he wanted to say until he got her away from the crowded barn. But now, at the far end of the dirt lot where the curious couldn’t hear them, Bret released his pent-up anger. He stopped abruptly in front of her and leaned down until their faces were inches apart.

“What did you think you were doing, following me here? Don’t you have any respect for a person’s privacy? I’ve told you over and over again to leave me alone and you don’t listen.”

“I wanted to see what a horse sale was like.”

“The hell you did.”

“I did!”

“You expect me to believe you had no idea I was going to be here?”

“Well…”

“I thought so.”

A zigzag of lightning pierced the dark sky, and thunder lumbered across the hills. A few large drops of rain peppered the vehicles and the ground. When the rising wind threatened to whisk away his cowboy hat, Bret reached up with one hand and held it in place.

“What gives you the right to mess with my life? Do you know what you remind me of? That character in the cartoon that whirls around like a tornado and chews up everything in its path. You eat people alive before they even know what hit them.”

“That’s not fair! I’m not like that.”

“Yeah, you are. Ever since you whirled into town, you’ve done everything in your power to make me miserable. Do you think I don’t know you’ve been running around all day asking questions about me, bothering my friends and trying to trick them into telling you something juicy you could use in your book?”

“Your friends? I’ve got news for you, Hayes. You’re grossly lacking in the friends department. I couldn’t find ten people in this town who could even recall talking to you, much less counting you as a friend.” She poked him in the chest. “And it’s pretty obvious why. You’ve got a personality problem only electric shock could fix.”

Bret gave her an incredulous look. “You think I’ve got a personality problem? Well, lady, let me tell you something. You’re the most irritating unlikable person I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. You’re annoying. You’re devious. Your mouth stays open so much I’m surprised something hasn’t nested in it by now. You’ve trespassed on my property, ruined my breakfast, followed me around with no purpose but to harass me. You’ve turned my life into a nightmare. And I’ve had enough!”

Thunder cracked loudly overhead and the rain that had threatened for days finally began to fall in earnest; it came down in torrents to soak the thirsty ground and sent steam rising with a hiss from the hot metal of the trucks and trailers. The dirt parking lot became a swamp in a matter of seconds.

The woman lifted her hands in a gesture of frustration. “Why am I standing here listening to this?”

She stomped off muttering loudly to herself, but she hadn’t gone more than a few yards before she slipped and went down in a puddle. The sight of her sprawled on the ground in those white clothes did a great deal to improve Bret’s bad mood. He laughed.

She crawled back up, flinging mud from both hands, cursing because she’d also broken the heel of her shoe. His amusement deepened her anger, and she turned and threw the shoe at him, missing. She took off the other shoe and threw that, but it missed, as well, making him laugh harder.

“You have lousy aim, Morgan.”

She whirled and squished off in the mud. He watched with a satisfied smile as she climbed into her car, cranked it and tried to move, burying her wheels in the slush. The lot was for pickups and trailers with heavy tires, not fancy rental cars.

Bret grabbed his slicker from the truck and exchanged his hat for a baseball cap that the rain couldn’t ruin. He leaned against the door, folded his arms over his chest and waited for her to ask for help. He was going to enjoy telling her no. She could get a ride from someone else. He wasn’t giving her one.

When she didn’t get out, he went over and tapped on the window. She opened it slightly and he leaned down and looked in. For once he had the upper hand with this woman, and he intended to take full advantage of it.

“Ah, Morgan…” She glared at him, and that made him chuckle. “Morgan, you should’ve known better than to park this car down here. I guess common sense isn’t one of your strengths.”

“Go away.”

“Better plan on sleeping here, because there’s no way you’re getting out of here tonight, even with a tow truck. Yep, it’s gonna be at least morning before this car’s going anywhere.”

“Leave me alone!”

He grinned. “You might find a ride, but that’s pretty dangerous, asking some stranger to take you home. And irritating as you are, you’re likely to get yourself murdered between here and the motel. Now that would be a real shame.”

His words had the desired effect. She rolled up the window, flung open the door and pushed him out of the way. She stomped to his truck, searched until she found her shoes and put them on. He thought she’d head for the barn, but she limped toward the highway.

Apparently the woman wasn’t only stupid, she was crazy. Did she plan to walk? The town’s one half-decent motel was three or four miles down the road, but she’d never make it in the dark, in the rain, without good shoes.