She looked back at Wyatt and hummed in surprise. At first glance, she'd missed the man talking with Wyatt.
"Don't tell them where I am. Please?"
"I won't." She cocked her head, hearing raised voices.
Unable to make out what they were arguing about, her concern turned toward Travis. The last thing Wyatt needed was Travis getting upset and running off. She'd seen how concerned Wyatt got knowing his son ran away.
"Hey, you want to help me for a few minutes?" She held out the bag of dirty rags. "I also have something I want to talk to you about."
"What?" He kept his hands in his pockets.
"Well, you'll have to find out after you lug that bag to my apartment." She grinned, tempting him into following.
Travis's stern expression reminded her of Wyatt. Boy, oh, boy, that boy was going to grow up to drive the women wild.
He hadn't yet grown into an adult body. His lanky arms and legs barely filled out his clothes. But he had the too-long hair, the same shade as Wyatt, the rebel James Dean look going on, and a take-no-guff attitude.
At the door to her apartment, she went inside. "You can dump it in the hall. Then, meet me in the kitchen. Are you hungry?"
"Sorta." He disappeared.
She washed her hands and retrieved the pack of Oreos she kept for that time of the month when all she wanted to do was eat and sleep. The cookies motivated her to get up in the morning. It was the only time she allowed herself to eat Oreos for breakfast with a big glass of milk.
Suspecting Travis was young enough to enjoy a treat, she poured him a glass and set it on the table at the same time he returned.
"Sit. Have some cookies." She sat and grabbed one for herself. "The milk is yours unless you want Tang.
"Do you have kids?" Travis scooted the chair out with his sneaker and plopped down, taking a handful of Oreos and dunking one of them in milk.
"Nope." She looked at her half of the cookie left.
"Then why do you have cookies and Tang?"
She laughed. "Because I like them."
"My dad doesn't drink Tang. He buys orange Kool-Aid."
Someday, she'd like to have kids, but she had to find a husband first. Her social life wasn't exactly hopping since her grandpa died, and she moved to Montana to manage the apartments and made it her goal to enter the Blackfoot Tournament at the end of the year.
"I got some bad news today." She popped the rest of the cookie in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "The man I hired to mow the grass around the apartments is moving, and that means I need to find someone else who could do the job."
Travis wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand and drank half the milk. "I don't know anyone."
"Sure, you do." She waited, and when Travis never stopped eating, she continued. "Do you know how to use a lawnmower?"
"Yeah, I had to mow at my mo—at my old house," he muttered.
Concerned that she'd brought up a sensitive topic, she plucked a napkin out of the holder in the middle of the table and slid it over to him. "Right now, the grass has to be mowed every other week, but once June rolls around, it needs to be done once a week. It takes about four hours to do the job, and I pay thirty dollars a week in the summer."
Travis raised his head. "Are you asking if I want the job?"
Teenagers. They weren't always fast at following a conversation.
"Yes—but you'd need to ask your dad for permission if you're interested. He might have other plans for you this summer," she said.
Seeing the interest in his eyes, she hoped Wyatt wouldn't be upset about her asking Travis before seeing if it was okay with him first. A lot of kids work during their teenage years. Her grandpa had started paying her for help around the apartments every summer when she'd turned thirteen years old.
"I want to do it if I'm paid." He wiped off his mouth. "But I can't ask him until tomorrow."
"Okay." She looked at the empty cookie package. The boy could wolf down his weight in cookies faster than anyone she knew.
Her phone rang. "Excuse me."
She hurried into the kitchen and picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"This is Mrs. Carmichael in A3. The light went out in the refrigerator."
"Okay. I'll pick up a new bulb tomorrow and install it for you." She wrote down the information and the apartment number. "Is there anything else?"
Before she said goodbye, she'd heard about Mrs. Carmichael's daughter in Seattle having a baby, her cousin on her mother's side getting married, and been lectured about the twenty-four-hour maintenance service in the rental agreement.
She hung up the phone, turned to check on Travis, and found him gone. She peeked at the front door. He'd snuck out without her even hearing.
Chapter 10Wyatt
Outside of Joey's door, Wyatt turned around and looked for Travis. It was less than two hundred feet from his apartment, and his son had already split.
"Hold this." He passed the pizza box to Jess. "Stay here. Don't move."
Halfway back to the apartment, he found Travis darting between the cars in the parking lot. He stopped on the sidewalk and whistled.
Travis's head snapped up, and he froze. Wyatt motioned him over, grabbed the back of his neck, and pulled his son close.
"Is there a problem with going over to Joey's and taking her dinner?" He squeezed Travis's neck, surprised at the tension in his slim body.
At almost five feet nine inches tall, his son had more growing to do. More and more, he noticed the strength in his son. Not only in the way he moved, but when he was angry, the kid was a regular bulldog.
"No."
"Then, do you want to tell me why you're snooping around in the parking lot
