Читать книгу The Last-Chance Maverick - Christyne Butler - Страница 9
ОглавлениеPresent Day Rust Creek Falls, Montana
Vanessa wasn’t sure she’d heard Nate Crawford correctly.
A rushing noise that reminded her of the crazy bumper-to-bumper traffic on Philadelphia’s Schuylkill Expressway filled her ears, except it was the beautiful mountain scenery around her that went a bit hazy as she choked down a mouthful of hot tea. Blinking hard, she focused on the disposable cup in her hand, noticing for the first time she’d grabbed two different flavored tea bags which explained the chocolatey-orange taste burning her tongue.
Even though she’d remembered arriving early enough for this morning’s meeting to grab some refreshment at the canteen here on the job site—not to mention watching the breathtaking Montana sunrise through the two-story, floor-to-ceiling windows that filled the back wall—maybe it had all been a figment of her imagination.
Maybe she was still tucked beneath her goose-down comforter in that amazingly oversize Davy Crockett–style bed in her cabin, dreaming...
“Are you all right?” Nate asked, getting her attention. She looked up in time to see him rock back on his heels, a slight frown on his handsome face. He then glanced at his fiancée, Callie Kennedy, a nurse who helped run the local clinic, who’d placed a hand on his arm.
“Yes,” she gasped, “yes, I’m fine.”
No, that was a lie. Vanessa was definitely not fine despite the fact she stood in the cavernous lobby and main entertaining space of a log mansion that Nate, a local businessman and member of one of the town’s founding families, was converting into a year-round resort.
The gorgeous view of the Montana wilderness was at her back while a stone fireplace big enough to stand in filled the opposite wall. And then there were the rest of the walls. All empty. Her gaze honed in on one of them—freshly painted if the scent tickling her nose meant anything, above the oversize, hand-hewed, carved desk where guests would check in once the resort officially opened.
“You want to hire me—” Vanessa asked, knowing she had to hear the words again. “—to do what?”
“Paint a mural,” Nate repeated, gesturing at the large blank space. “I thought it would be a great tribute to the people and places that mean so much to this town, to Montana. Rust Creek Falls has a connected history with both Thunder Canyon and Whitehorn and I’d like see all three towns honored here at the resort.”
Her gaze followed, trying to see the vision the man’s words created, but nothing came to her artist eye. Zero. Zilch. Her stomach cramped at the now conditioned sensation. How many times had she experienced that same feeling over the past year?
“I think he surprised you, didn’t he?” Callie asked.
“Ah, yes.” Vanessa glanced down at her cup again. “Maybe I should’ve gotten something a bit stronger to ensure I was fully awake for this.”
“And maybe we shouldn’t have asked you to meet us here so early, but we both have to be down in Kalispell for most of the day. Nate didn’t want to wait, and you did say—”
“Ah, no, early is fine. I’m usually up before the sun, anyway.” Looking up at her friend, she waved off Callie’s concern. “But I’m still a bit confused. You’re asking me to do this because...”
“Because I was quite amazed.” Nate paused and took a step closer, his head bent low even though the three of them were the only ones around, “and pleased when I found out the Vanessa Brent who’s running an afterschool art program at the community center and V. E. Brent, world-famous abstract expressionism artist, were one and the same.”
Nate’s soft-spoken words took her completely by surprise.
Not that she went out of her way to hide who she was or what she did with her life before moving to Rust Creek Falls back in July. When asked, she’d only said she’d worked in the creative arts, but was currently on a time-out, rethinking her career plans. She’d then change the topic of conversation because deep down, the explanation had more than a ring of truth to it.
Or more simply put, she hadn’t painted anything in almost a year.
Oh, she’d thought about her craft often, obsessed about it, really. At least until she’d moved out here. Lately, she’d begun to dream about it again, like she’d done as a child. But even though she’d brought along all of her supplies, the white canvases that lined one wall of the cabin she’d rented a few weeks after arriving in town were still blank. Her paints and brushes lay untouched, her heart and her mind as vacant as the walls that surrounded them now.
“Ah, yeah, we’re the same person,” she finally responded to the expectant looks on Nate’s and Callie’s faces. “I mean, yes, I’m V. E. Brent, but I haven’t...been involved with the art world for quite some time.”
Even now, Vanessa was still surprised at the deep depression she’d sunk into after Adele’s death last year. Or the fact that she hadn’t been able to fill the void with her art.
Adele had hung on until just before Thanksgiving and the day of her memorial service had been the start of an arctic winter that had settled in Philadelphia, and most of the country. Vanessa, too, had become locked in her own personal deep freeze. For months she’d mourned, but unlike when her mother died, she failed to find the same solace and comfort in her work. No matter how hard she’d tried, no matter the techniques or tools she employed, her gift had faded into a vast wasteland where nothing flourished.
Even after she’d finally broken out of her self-imposed grieving this past spring, thanks to an intervention led by Adele’s mother, the ability to create was still dormant and she’d decided something drastic was needed to shake her back into the world of the living.
Number ten: move out west.
Vanessa had been reading a weekly blog by a big-city volunteer coordinator who’d moved to Rust Creek Falls to help the town recover from a devastating flood the year before and ended up falling in love and marrying the local sheriff. Soon the idea to move to this little slice of cowboy heaven planted itself in her head and wouldn’t let go. So she’d sublet her loft apartment, refused to listen to her father’s halfhearted attempts to change her mind and bought a one-way plane ticket to Big Sky Country, placing the first check mark on her and Adele’s bucket list in months by arriving just before the July Fourth holiday.
“But you are involved in art,” Callie said, breaking into Vanessa’s thoughts. “You’re great with the kids at the community center.”
Vanessa smiled, remembering how she’d gotten roped into helping with a summer day camp that’d showed up at the center looking to entertain a group of kids on a rainy day. “That’s pretty much finger painting, playing with clay or simple watercolors. Other than that I’m not...”
Her voice cracked and she looked away, that familiar lump back in her throat. Damn! She walked across the vast space, her gaze centered on the empty fireplace. “I’m not...well, let’s just say that side of me—V. E. Brent—she isn’t painting. At all.”
“Oh, please don’t think we’ve invaded your privacy.” Callie hurried to her side. “We haven’t told anyone else who you really are. Nate came up with this idea before we even knew thanks to your beautiful sketches.”
She looked back at them. “My sketches?”
“Yes, the ones you’ve been doing of the locals around town. They’re amazing. I love the portrait you did of me when I was tending to a scraped knee at the playground. I never even realized what you were up to until you gave it to me. I’ve got it hanging in my office at the clinic.”
A few weeks after her kids program took off, Vanessa had started to once again carry a sketch pad and colored pencils in her oversize bag.
Something she hadn’t done in months.
At first, the blank pages seemed to mock her whenever she opened the pad, but then she’d forced herself to do quick exercises, simple pen-and-ink sketches of whatever might catch her eye.
Surprisingly, it had been people.
The citizens of Rust Creek Falls had become her test subjects, either in the park, the community center or while sitting tucked away in a corner of a local business. Sometimes she asked for permission, but usually the sketches were done so quick the focus of her practice exercise didn’t even realize what Vanessa was doing until she’d rip out the page from her sketchbook afterward and offer it to them.
So far, no one had been upset with her. She’d figured most had just been tossed away, but she had spotted a few, like Callie’s, posted around town. Evidence that her creativity was trickling back little by little.
“The drawing you did of my mother working the counter at Crawford’s Store is now matted, framed and holds a place of honor in my father’s study,” Nate said. “Callie and I were there for Sunday dinner and that drawing got me thinking about the mural, the resort and you.”
Surprised at that, Vanessa’s gaze was drawn back to the empty space over the desk, looking very much like the oversize blank canvases in her cabin. Nate’s request caused her fingers to itch, a familiar sign they wanted to be wrapped around a paintbrush again. But Vanessa knew what would happen. As soon as she’d pull out her paints...nothing. Sketching a few random subjects was vastly different than taking on a commissioned work, where the nuances she’d have to capture in oils required planning and a delicate touch.
Things that were still beyond her reach.
Moving far away from home and memories of Adele had been her way to start her life again, and deep down, hopefully restore her spark, her inspiration for her craft. Except for those rare moments when she tried to paint and still failed, Vanessa was enjoying her time in Rust Creek Falls. She’d been lucky enough to find a great place to live, joined the Newcomers Club—a social group of women new to Rust Creek Falls—made some great friends and explored the area. The art program at the center kept her busy, she’d gone on a few dates with some of the local cowboys and made a point to appreciate each day of her new life.
Number thirteen: stop and enjoy sunrises and sunsets.
Another check mark on her list, made the first morning she woke up in Montana. Adele had been right. Concentrating on her life, and using their list as a guide, had helped her to find joy again.
Which made this idea of Nate’s downright scary. What if she said yes and her creative block kept her from putting anything on the wall? And her work was abstract in the truest sense of the word. Powerful color compositions with no reference of any kind to anything recognizable. What Nate was describing was much more detailed, and in a way, more personal.
Still, she found herself wanting desperately to take on the challenge.
Maybe this mural was a chance—her last chance—to find her talent again.
* * *
Jonah Dalton breathed in the cool morning air, holding it for a moment in his nose and mouth, like he used to do as kid. The air had a bite to it—like the fresh tartness of a Granny Smith apple the moment you first sink your teeth into it—that couldn’t be matched anywhere but here in the wilds of Montana.
He’d missed that taste more than he’d been willing to admit.
The air in Denver, his home for the past eight years, had a flavor that was a mix of excitement and culture, but that was to be expected in a sophisticated city of over 600,000 people, he guessed.
He released his breath, watching the white puffs disappear. He stood on the large circular drive outside of Bledsoe’s Folly, soon to be known as...well, whatever Nate Crawford decided to name his as-yet-unopened resort. All Jonah knew was that when the chance came to restore and revitalize this twenty-year-old log mansion into a state-of-the-art, and hopefully popular destination for year-round vacations, his architect’s heart wouldn’t let him turn down the project. Not when the initial construction of the castle-like mansion had fueled his love of architecture and design all those years ago.
So he’d taken a leave of absence from his job with one of the top firms in the country and worked pretty much nonstop on the plans and blueprints for the necessary renovations.
And now he was here.
Even though he’d been less than thrilled about Nate’s condition that he be onsite for the last three months of the project in case any problems arose, Jonah had always enjoyed seeing his designs come to life. At work, he forgot everything else. And that’s just how he liked it.
He figured he could do the same thing here, even if it meant coming home. And he had to admit he was looking forward to the quiet and slow pace of his home town, especially after all the craziness—professional and personal—he’d left behind in Denver. He’d arrived late last night after driving fifteen hours straight and hadn’t made it past the living room couch at his parents’ place.
Yet, here he was at the job site first thing the next morning, anxious to see his dream turned into reality.
His shiny Cadillac Escalade looked a bit out of place in the parking lot crowded with older-model cars and trucks, but Jonah took the number of vehicles present as a good sign that the crew was already hard at work. He grabbed his white hard hat and turned to head inside, surprised when his older brother Eli pulled up the long winding paved road in a battered pickup.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Good morning to you, too, little brother.” Eli waved a piece of paper at him. “Hey, I found your note on the kitchen counter as I was heading out. Decided to stop by and—”
“What are you doing with that?” Jonah cut him off. “I left that for Mom, warning her I plan to stay out at the cabin and not to worry about getting my old room ready.”
“I know, I read it. Here, take this.” Eli handed over a travel mug stamped with the brand of the family’s ranch, The Circle D. “Jeez, you’re just like the rest of the family, a bear without your morning cup of joe. Nice to know some things haven’t changed. Oh, and welcome home.”
The enticing aroma filled Jonah’s nose and his blood cried out for caffeinated bliss. Not wanting to wake his family, he’d only grabbed a quick shower and dressed, figuring he’d see everyone tonight at dinner. He’d guessed there’d be a canteen set up inside for the crew, but this was better.
Jonah took the cup. After Eli shut off the truck and climbed out to join him, he grabbed his brother’s outstretched hand and allowed Eli to pull him into a quick hug that ended with a strong slap to his back. “Thanks, it’s...ah, it’s good to be back, but I still don’t get why you took my note.”
“You can’t stay at the cabin.” Eli stepped back and righted the dark Stetson he wore so much Jonah had often wondered if his brother slept with the darn thing. “It’s been rented.”
Surprised filled him. “You rented out my cabin?”
“Technically, it wasn’t me. It was Mom. And it’s not your cabin.”
“I designed it. I built it. It’s on the acreage Grandpa and Dad set aside for me.” Jonah held tight to the mug as the memories that went along with the one bedroom cabin he’d forged with his own hands came crashing back to him. After eight years one would think he’d be over it by now. “Why would Mom rent my cabin to a stranger?”
“I guess because nobody knew when you planned to show your face in town again.” Eli turned and headed for the main house. “This place must still have working bathrooms, right?”
Jonah sighed and followed his brother toward the oversize double front doors. Yes, he’d missed both Thanksgiving and Christmas, the two times he made a point of returning home over the past few years.
“I couldn’t be here because I was out of the country most of last year working on a major project,” he said as he and Eli stepped through the rustic mahogany-and-iron entryway that was original to the building.
“And when you got back to the U.S. you still didn’t visit.”
“But I did call. I do have a life, and a job in Denver, you know.”
“I know that and you know that. Mom? Not so much. She and Dad were really excited to find out you were the lead architect behind the redesign of this place. The fact they had to hear about it from your boss didn’t go over so well.”
Jonah had planned to tell his folks about working with Nate Crawford, but his life had been going non-stop since he’d agreed to take on the project. “Well, I’m home now and since I’m going to stick around until at least Christmas I’d like to stay at my cabin.”
“Why? You never stayed there before.”
Because he hadn’t actually finished the darn thing until a couple of years ago, working on it whenever he was home. Besides, it was time to get rid of some old ghosts, but Jonah wasn’t going to share that.
“There must be plenty of available housing from those who left town after the flood last year.” Including his ex-wife, he thought, taking a long sip of the strong brew despite the steamy vapors. “Mom can tell the renter they have to move. Or I’ll tell them. It’s my place so technically I’m the landlord.”
“Great. Here’s your chance.”
His brother pointed out Jonah’s boss across the room.
Nate Crawford stood near one of the room’s best features, the original stone fireplace, with two women. One was his fiancée, whom Jonah had met when she’d come with Nate to Denver for one of their many meetings and the other was a stunningly beautiful brunette.
A powerful jolt raced through his veins and Jonah immediately blamed the mouthful of java he managed to choke down. He took in her dark brown hair, a mass of curls that just touched the wide neckline of a bright purple sweater that hung down far past her hips, but still managed to display feminine curves in all the right places.
Or maybe it was her black skintight, sorry excuse for pants that did that.
He couldn’t make out what she was holding in her arms, but then she reached up and pushed a handful of those curls off her face, releasing a jangle from the stack of bracelets that slid from her wrist to her elbow as she turned in a slow circle, her gaze seemingly locked on the empty walls of the room as her ankle-high boots clicked on the newly finished reclaimed barn wood floor. Then Nate’s fiancée touched her arm and the two started to talk.
Staring was rude, gawking like a teenager was worse, but for whatever reason Jonah was helpless to look away.
“Yeah, that’s the typical reaction.” Eli reached around and waved his hand in front of Jonah’s face. “Not hard to tell Vanessa isn’t from around here, huh? Which is why she needed a place to stay. Like your cabin.”
As if she heard them, or maybe because Callie was now pointing in his direction, the beauty looked over and caught him watching her. Jonah snapped out of his dazed state and pushed his brother’s hand away, realizing at that moment the woman he’d been transfixed by was the one sleeping in his bed.
Whoa! Nope, not going there!
Yeah, he’d also built the king-size log bed that took up most of the one bedroom in the cabin, but still...
“She’s the renter?” he finally asked, turning his back on her, and his boss, to face his brother again.
“That’s her,” Eli said, then chuckled. “Can I stick around and watch you go all Scrooge-like?”
“Don’t you have someplace to be? Like the men’s room? Or the ranch?”
“I’m going, I’m going.” Eli grinned and backed away. “Gee, all the Daltons under one roof again. Not sure how Derek is going to feel about that, but the twins and the folks are going to be in heaven.”
Jonah scowled, watching his brother stop and chat with a few workers before disappearing around a corner. He should go over and let Nate know he’d arrived, but his unexpected reaction to— What had Eli said was her name?
And why did he care?
* * *
The cool touch to her arm jolted Vanessa out of her self-imposed trance. She dropped her hand to her side, noticing for the first time that the interior of the resort had gotten busy as members of the construction crew moved from room to room, the noise of their chatter and work tools filled the air while she’d been trying to conjure up something—anything—for the mural.
At some point during her daydreaming she’d handed off her cup of hot chocolate and pulled a sketch pad from her oversize leather bag, but other than grabbing a trio of pens and holding them one-handed in a familiar pretzel twist of fingers, she had...
Nothing.
“I hope your silence is a sign that you’re already brimming with ideas for the mural,” Callie said. “I think Nate’s suggestion is wonderful.”
Despite the panic ricocheting inside of her, Vanessa’s smile came easy. One of the first people she’d met after moving to Rust Creek Falls had been Callie, who was also considered a newcomer in town after she left Chicago back in January. “You think Nate is wonderful.”
Callie’s eyes were bright as she glanced at the tall man next to her talking with a member of the construction crew. “Yes, I do. It’s funny, but from the moment I saw him—oh, look, there’s Jonah.”
Vanessa’s gaze followed Callie’s pointed finger and amazingly the panic over her creative block quieted, replaced with a warm glow that surprised her as much as the way the handsome man stared at them.
At her.
Did she know him? He looked vaguely familiar, but Vanessa was sure they hadn’t been introduced before. No, she’d have remembered if she’d met this man.
Unlike the majority of the men here at the resort and in Rust Creek Falls with their broken-in jeans, T-shirts and flannel button-downs in every plaid pattern and color combination imaginable, he was dressed in black business slacks and a dress shirt.
He was tall, over six feet she guessed, and his slightly mussed brown hair showed hints of gold when the sunlight caught it as he turned away. Her gaze lingered over the way his shoulders filled the expensive cut of his dark gray suit jacket that she’d bet her last pair of Manolos was cashmere. The only thing that made him fit in was the hard hat he held in one hand.
“Who is that?”
Callie smiled and Vanessa realized she’d spoken the question aloud. “I mean, I haven’t seen him around town.” She paused, catching the capped end of one of her pens between her teeth. “At least I don’t think I have.”
“Well, you’ve certainly dated enough of the single men in town to know.”
Vanessa flipped her wrist and pointed her pen at Callie. “Hey! Six dates in three months isn’t that many.”
“Six dates with six different guys.”
“Five.” Vanessa had made the mistake of going out twice with the same cowboy. There wouldn’t be a third time. “But who’s counting? Besides, not everyone believes in love at first sight. I’m more of the ‘you only live once, so enjoy yourself’ kind of girl.”
Unlike half of the women in the town’s Newcomers Club, it seems.
Besides Callie, two other members—Mallory Franklin and Cecelia Clifton—had also found happily-ever-after in the past few months and were sporting pretty engagement rings, even though Mallory claimed she hadn’t specifically moved to Rust Creek Falls for the great “Gal Rush” as many of the locals called the arrival of females over the past year or so. She’d initially come to town to raise her orphaned niece, the little girl her sister and brother-in-law had adopted from China. Then she fell in love with former playboy rancher, Caleb Dalton.
“Hey, Jonah!” Nate called out, “Come over and join us.”
The man hesitated, but then spun back around and headed across the room toward them, the hard hat now perched on his head with a rakish tilt. Callie backed up a few steps toward her fiancé and sent Vanessa a quick wink. She grinned in response and followed, happier now that the conversation had shifted away from the mural she still hadn’t officially agreed to do.
“Welcome home.” Nate held out his hand. “When did you get in?”
“Late last night.” He switched his travel mug from one hand to the other and shook Nate’s. “Very late. Hence, the need for coffee.”
“There’s always a need for coffee.” Nate released him and turned to her and Callie. “You remember Callie?”
He nodded. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You, too, Jonah. I bet you’re glad to be home.”
A shuttered look filled his gaze for a moment bringing Vanessa’s attention to his green-gold hazel eyes. Tired eyes. The man looked like he could use a good night’s sleep and it was barely eight in the morning.
“Yes, it is,” he said, then turned back to Nate. “Sorry I’m a day late. I know I said October first, but I got stuck on business—”
“Hey, one day doesn’t matter. Did you read my latest email?”
“I meant to, but yesterday was all about tying up loose ends and a long drive. Did I miss something important?”
“Yes, but I think this is better, anyway. Remember when I said I had a great idea for the lobby?” Nate waved his hand toward Vanessa. “Well, here she is.”
The stranger turned his gaze to her, the expression on his face as blank as the walls—as her imagination. Well, blank when it came to the mural. Suddenly she was coming up with some great ideas for her and this handsome guy.
Vanessa forced out a quick laugh, thankful it sounded so relaxed and stuck out her hand. “Gee, you make me sound like a pole dancer or something. Hi, I’m Vanessa Brent.”
“Jonah Dalton.”
He took her hand in his and heat engulfed her fingers. Where had the tingling come from that turned the heat up to volcanic level?
The widening of his eyes told her he felt it, too, and he quickly released her, tipped his mug again and took a long gulp. It was then she noticed the logo on the side. “Dalton...are you related to either of the Daltons here in town?”
He nodded, tugging the brim of his hard hat a bit lower. “Charles and Rita Dalton are my folks.”
“Oh, my goodness! What a small world!” Vanessa hugged her sketch pad to her chest. “Your parents are the sweetest people. I mean, your whole family is so nice. I’m renting a cabin on the Circle D Ranch.”
“You don’t say.”
“Do you know the place? When I was looking to move out of the boardinghouse in town, you mom insisted she had the perfect cabin and she was right! The living room has this one wall that’s a huge single pane of glass—” she waved a hand at the windows that filled the other side of the room “—nothing like that, of course, but the views of the ranch and the mountains are amazing. I’m still learning how to work the woodstoves, the nights have been getting chilly, but the best thing is the claw-footed tub in the bathroom.” Vanessa closed her eyes for a moment a sighed. “Oh, fill that baby with foamy bubbles, give me a good book and I’m soaking for hours up to my—”
The sound of choking had her eyes flying open in time to see Jonah thumping at his chest with his fist. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” One more thump and then he cleared his throat. “Last mouthful of coffee went down the wrong way. Yes, I know the cabin. I grew up on the Circle D Ranch.”
“So, are you a cowboy like your brothers?” It wasn’t hard to picture him in a classic Stetson instead of the hard hat he wore. “Although, I’m guessing from your current chapeau you’re working here on the renovation?”
Both Nate and Callie laughed, reminding Vanessa she wasn’t standing here alone with this long lost Dalton son she’d now recognized from the numerous family photos in the main house on the Dalton’s ranch.
“Yes, Jonah is working on the resort. He’s the lead architect on this project,” Nate explained. “All the innovative building techniques we’re putting into this place to turn it into a premier resort are his. He’s also the lead on all of the interior design so you’ll be working for him. In a way.”
“She will?” Jonah asked, clearly confused. “As what?”
“An artist,” Nate said. “I’ve commissioned Vanessa to paint a mural over the registration desk in the front lobby.”
“You have?” The confusion on his face gave way to something closer to annoyance. “When?”
“Just today,” Vanessa chimed in. “But I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
“Well, that’s good.”
Hmmm, interesting response. One arched eyebrow from her told him he was free to continue.
“No, that came out—what I meant was we’ve already got the designs for the interior furnishings in place.” Jonah’s gaze darted from Vanessa to Callie and back to Nate. “I mentioned earlier this week that Rothschild—the firm in Denver we hired—is sending a representative in a few weeks to give the team a final presentation on everything from furniture to curtains to...well, artwork.”
An emotion that hovered between resentment and relief filled Vanessa’s chest. It seemed Nate and his architect weren’t on the same page when it came to this so-called mural. Good. While the idea of taking on the commission scared her more than anything had in years, she’d admit she had been leaning toward saying yes, confident her talent hadn’t deserted her completely.
Now it didn’t seem to matter.
