Page 12 of Blame It On Midnight

A half smile touched her face. Banish the cowboy by using another.

Always an impulse junkie (probably the reason she was in this pickle) Collins headed for the truck. She sent her brother a text. Told him she was headed back to town and she’d catch up with him later. She knew he’d end up at Ivy and Mike Paul’s place, so she wasn’t worried that she was stranding him or anything. Luckily, it was parked off to the side, and with no one blocking her in, she was able to escape without notice.

There was a small bed and breakfast in Big Bend, Duffer’s Place. She’d scouted it out earlier and, after a quick call, was able to secure the last available room. The GPS led her to the other side of town, and she parked in front of a quaint two-story home, complete with a wraparound porch and two big old trees out front. One of them had a swing strung from its largest branch. There were overflowing flower boxes on each side of the porch steps, and she had to maneuver around a large orange tabby as she climbed them. The cat pawed at her playfully, so she bent down and gave it a scratch before she stepped over him.

A tag hung from his collar, Lion, and it made her smile. That’s something she supposed. Collins hiked her weekender bag over her shoulder and crossed the wide, deep porch. A sign said, Come On In. She did just that and took a moment to look around. The foyer was cute, with delicate wallpaper, pink roses and vines, and chestnut wainscoting to match the original hardwood floors. There was a vase of wildflowers on the desk, and the smell of lemon oil in the air. No one manned the desk, but she spied a small bell and rang it. Didn’t take long for someone to appear. An older lady with snow white hair that fell in long waves down her back, and the kind of easy smile that made Collins feel at home. She wore an apron and was dusting off her hands.

“Miss Lafferty?”

Collins nodded.

The woman walked to the counter and accepted Collins’ credit card.

“I’m Wilhemenia Duffer, the owner, but you can call me Willie.” She winked. “Everyone else does.”

Her voice was soft. Lyrical. With a slow, Southern drawl that didn’t belong in Montana.

“I’m from Alabama,” Willie said, writing Collins’ name in a large book. Seemed as if technology wasn’t king around these parts. She handed over a key.

“And apparently a mind reader.” Collins smiled. “How long have you been in Big Bend?”

“Longer than it feels like, that’s for sure.” Her eyes softened even more. “I fell in love with a cowboy the year I turned twenty-one. I was visiting a cousin, and we went to a rodeo, and that was that. I’ve been here ever since. Stayed on, even after he passed when I was only twenty-six.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I had five wonderful years with the love of my life, and he gave me two children who mean the world to me. Fate brought me here, but it was love that kept me.” Willie walked out from behind the desk and pointed to the staircase. “Your room is the last one on the left side. It’s the biggest and you have your own bathroom. We serve breakfast and a light lunch, but dinner is something you’ll have to find elsewhere. If you need anything and I’m not here, I live in the little bungalow next door.” She was quiet for a few moments, a thoughtful expression on her face. “If you don’t mind my asking. You look familiar. Am I wrong in thinking that?”

“I model, so maybe you’ve seen some of my campaigns.”

Willie’s eyes widened. “That’s it. My granddaughter, Elvie, stayed with me for a week and she all these magazines she kept pouring over. I’ve seen you among those pages.” She paused. “Are you working here in Montana?”

Collins considered sidestepping the question, but then thought, what’s the point? “No. My brother is visiting a friend, and I tagged along.”

“Enjoy the beauty. Montana is big sky country. It’s always nice to welcome a new visitor to our corner of the earth. If you have any questions, feel free to come find me. I’ll be in the kitchen preparing for tomorrow’s lunch.”

Collins thanked the woman and headed upstairs. There were four doors, and she found hers easily. The room had a beauty and softness she liked, with a pink and baby-blue gingham comforter spread across the four-poster bed, creamy diaphanous curtains that fell to the floor, and a beautiful area rug in pastels. Like the dresser and full-length mirror, it looked like an antique. The bathroom boasted a large tub with claws for feet as well as a standalone shower. She eyed the tub longingly but didn’t have time.

She quickly stripped and took a shower, then towel dried her hair, left it damp and curling wildly, and pulled on a pair of jeans, boots, and an off white halter top that left her back completely bare. She took her time with her makeup—smoky eyes and big glossy lips—then stepped back for a good look.

She studied the reflection in a clinical sort of way. Angled her head for a better look. The face was one she knew well. Heck, she’d been staring at it for twenty-five years. She was what most folks would call striking. Beautiful. Her cheekbones and nose, and generous mouth were made for the camera. Her hair was thick and shiny, her body long and lean with curves where they needed to be. These were facts. Something she accepted, just like she knew the sun rose in the east and set in the west. But Collins knew beauty faded, and though most folks would think she was lying, she’d never paid much attention to any of it. Most of the time, she wore no makeup, her hair was up in a bun, and her clothes were oversized and baggy.

The world she lived and worked in was plastic. Everything was transactional. She posed for a campaign and was paid an ungodly amount to do so. The company made money off her looks, and everyone was happy. But outside of work, she wasn’t that girl. She was just…Collins. A book nerd who loved to read romance novels. A woman who could quote nearly every episode of the Gilmore Girls or The Lord of the Rings movies. She liked to watch Criminal Minds reruns and had seen Downton Abbey in its entirety at least three times.

But tonight she wanted to look good, because her confidence was in the toilet. And just like any other woman her age, who’d been bruised and needed an ego boost, she was dressed to kill, so to speak.

Her cell pinged. She scooped it up, then made a face.

Kip: Where are you exactly

Collins: Heading to the Sundowner

Kip: Why

Collins fingered the keyboard, trying to compose the kind of answer that wasn’t an outright lie, but one that would satisfy her brother. But there wasn’t one. She blew out a long breath and quickly typed a response.

Collins: I’ll see you at Ivy’s tomorrow

She put her phone on mute and shoved it into her back pocket, then grabbed the truck key and headed outside.

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