Already Home by Vicki Lewis Thompson Page B

changed. She’d invited him for a drink. And Nash wasn’t here.
    * * *
    T RINA FELT LIKE an insensitive jerk for blurting out the news about her mother and Hutch’s dad, so she was relieved that Hutch was up for a drink at the Spirits and Spurs, Shoshone’s only tavern and a favorite watering hole for the residents. Which of them bought the drinks wasn’t important, but a nice long chat would give her a chance to smooth over her faux pas.
    Hutch was the last person on earth she wanted to make feel uncomfortable. She’d had a soft spot for him—or more accurately a hot spot for him—since she’d turned thirteen and realized that boys weren’t so bad, after all. Suddenly her big brother’s friends, two years older than she was, had become fascinating to her, especially Hutch, whose dark hair and green eyes had starred in most of her teenage fantasies. She’d never had the nerve to confess that to anyone, although Nash had figured it out.
    Hutch’s dedication and enterprising spirit had impressed her almost as much as how fine he looked in a pair of jeans. When a film crew had arrived in Jackson Hole to shoot footage of extreme winter sports during Hutch’s senior year, he’d spent every free moment trailing after them.
    He’d mastered the basics by the time they’d left, and that summer he’d produced a video of himself hang-gliding, a camera strapped to his chest. As he’d continued his daredevil stunts to get amazing videos, he’d won the hearts of all the girls in town, including Trina’s.
    Nash had warned her off, saying Hutch wouldn’t be tying himself down to any woman for a long, long time. Trina had wanted to argue that she wasn’t looking for long-term. A temporary thrill would have suited her just fine. But she couldn’t say such a thing to her brother, who’d always been overprotective. And she hadn’t wanted to cause problems between Nash and his good friend Hutch.
    “I don’t know how I missed hearing that you were back home working with your dad,” she said as they walked the short distance to the Spirits and Spurs. She tried not to ogle him, but he looked so darned good. His faded jeans, leather cowboy boots and yoked Western shirt were common around here, but Hutch wore the clothes better than most.
    “I’m going to blame my lack of info on Nash,” she continued. “He knows, right?”
    “He does, but he probably didn’t mention it because this was supposed to be temporary. I only meant to stay a couple of months until Dad got used to running the store by himself.”
    “I can’t believe you’ve really been enjoying the experience.” She increased her pace to keep up with his long-legged stride. “The Hutch I knew would have been bored out of his skull clerking at a feed store.”
    “Which I am.” He pushed open the door to the Spirits and Spurs and ushered her inside.
    “But you’re still here,” she said over her shoulder.
    “Turns out Dad’s great at schmoozing with the customers, but the financial aspects of the business elude him. Mom used to handle that. I didn’t realize that she did it out of necessity until she was gone and the whole operation fell to pieces.” He paused. “Booth, table, or bar stool?”
    Trina took in the cozy ambience of a place that was one of two social centers in town, the Shoshone Diner being the other. A handful of people had already gathered for happy hour—two cowboys at the curved wooden bar, three women at a table and a young couple in one of the booths lining the room.
    Trina recognized the couple as Lickity Split customers, but she didn’t know any of the others. Years ago she could have identified everyone in town and most of the dogs and horses, too. Not anymore.
    “Booth.” She walked toward one in the far corner.
    “Works for me.”
    A young waitress who obviously had a crush on Hutch came over to take their order. Trina empathized with the girl’s calf-eyed adoration and hoped she’d been more subtle at that age.