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From New York Times bestselling author Joan Johnston, a heartwarming fan-favorite story of what it means to risk your whole heart for the one you love…
A lone wolf like Stony Carlton isn’t easy to tame. Commitment may be fine for other men, but Stony is a born rambler and refuses to be tied down, even to the right woman. Because how could such a person really exist?
But then he meets the spirited Tess Lowell, a small-town waitress with emotional scars of her own, thanks to an ugly divorce. And, somehow, as the straight-talking redhead slowly earns a place in his heart, he can’t help but think about what it might be like to give up his roaming ways…
Taming the Lone Wolf
Joan Johnston
MILLS & BOON
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Contents
STONY CARLTON took a bite of his hamburger and tried not to listen to the scene unfolding behind the counter of the Buttermilk Café between the waitress and a guy who seemed to be her boss. For a man used to solving other people’s problems with his wits—and now and then a gun—it was impossible not to eavesdrop, given the agitation in the woman’s voice.
He looked around the empty café. No one else was there to come to her rescue except him—and he wasn’t exactly the knight-in-shining-armor type.
“Come on, Bud, I’ve told you I’m not interested,” the woman said.
“Aw, Tess, just one little kiss.”
“I said no.”
“You oughta have a little more gratitude, seein’ as how I let you leave so early in the day.”
“You let me leave early because I come in two hours before everyone else,” the woman replied with what Stony considered amazing composure.
“Yeah, well, you owe me for givin’ you a job when you had no experience.”
“I’ve got experience now, Bud, a whole year of it. I’ve got work to do, so if you’ll just let me by—”
Stony heard muffled sounds suggesting a struggle. He set down his burger, wiped his hands on a paper napkin and threw it down as he left his booth headed for the counter. The man, Bud, had the woman, Tess, backed up against the wall beside the coffeemaker. She was fending off his attempts to kiss her, turning her head away and shoving vainly at his burly shoulders.
“Hey, Bud,” Stony said.
Bud turned and glared, clearly irritated at being interrupted. “What?”
“Let the lady go.”
“Butt out, mister.”
“Afraid I can’t do that,” Stony said.
“Yeah? So what are you gonna do about it?” Bud snarled.
Stony was over the counter in an instant, as though it wasn’t there. He grabbed Bud by the scruff of his food-stained T-shirt and slammed him against the wall, holding him there with his arm rigid, his palm pressed against the center of Bud’s chest.
The waitress shot out of the way and stood at the kitchen door, hands clutched together, green eyes wide with fright.
Stony ignored Bud as though he were a bug on the wall and turned his attention to the woman. “You all right, ma’am?”
She nodded her head jerkily.
Stony had been in the Buttermilk Café probably once a month in the past year, yet he hadn’t paid any attention to the waitress. Since he had sworn off women a couple of years ago, he had made it a point not to spend his time looking at the pretty ones, so he wouldn’t be tempted to go back on his promise to himself.
Tess was definitely pretty.
In fact, she was the kind of woman it was hard to dismiss. Her auburn hair was pinned up off her neck, but it had that mussed-up look, with lazy curls at her temples and ears and throat, as though she had just gotten out of a man’s bed. The green eyes that stared warily back at him from a heart-shaped face were curved at the outer edges, like a cat’s. Her nose was small and straight, her chin dainty. She had an alabaster complexion, which suggested she didn’t get outside much, because the Wyoming sun burned the hide off you summer and winter.
He had avoided looking at her figure because he found it so alluring. She had a bosom—about big enough to fit his hands—that drew a man’s eye, a tiny waist and feminine hips. And she was small enough to incite a man’s protective instincts. He was tall, over six feet, and he suspected her head would barely reach his shoulder.
“I’m all right,” the woman said. “You can let Bud go.”
Stony had completely forgotten about the man against the wall. He turned to Bud and said, “What is it going to take to convince you to leave the lady alone?”
“What I do in my own place of business is none of your concern,” Bud retorted.
Stony glanced at the woman. “Do you welcome this gentleman’s attentions, ma’am?”
He watched the dark flush start at the V neck of her peach-colored waitress uniform and skate up her throat to sit like two roses on those alabaster cheeks. Her green-eyed gaze flitted from him to Bud and back to him.
“I...uh...no,” she said. “But—”