Читать книгу Cassidy Harte and the Comeback Kid - RaeAnne Thayne - Страница 9

As he’d expected, she didn’t look exactly thrilled to see him. Her eyes turned wintry, her mouth went as tight as a shriveled-up prune, and her spine stiffened, vertebrae by vertebrae.

Even so, she looked so beautiful he had to shove his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her.

She must have only just climbed out of the bath. Her still-damp hair, a few shades darker than normal, clung to her head, and she had wrapped herself in a silky robe of the palest yellow. The delectable smell of peaches wafted to him on the cool, early-summer breeze, and his mouth watered.

Framed in the light from inside her cabin, she looked warm and soft and welcoming, just as he had imagined her a thousand times over the years.

Her voice, though, was as cold as her eyes. “What do you want?”

Just to see you. To hear your voice again. He shifted his weight, alarmed at the need instantly pulsing through him just at the sight of her. He would have to do a much better job of controlling himself if he wanted this plan to work.

“I just spoke with Jean.” Despite his best intentions, his voice came out a little ragged. “She said you tendered your resignation.”

He didn’t think it was possible, but that prune-mouth tightened even more. “What else did you expect?”

“I expected you to show a little more backbone.”

She stared at him for several seconds. In the porch light her eyes looked huge, those dark lashes wide with disbelief, and then she laughed harshly. “Oh that’s a good one, coming from you. Really good. Thanks. I needed a good joke tonight.”

Okay. He deserved that. He had no right to lecture her about staying power when he had been the one who walked away just days before their wedding. Still, that was a different situation altogether.

He plodded gamely forward. “So you’re just going to walk out and turn your back on Mrs. Martineau when she needs you?”

Her gaze shifted to some spot over his shoulder. “Jean has nothing to do with this. You’re the new owner. That means I’m turning my back on you.”

“We need to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t.” She started to close the door, but his instincts kicked in and he managed to think fast enough to shove a boot in the space. Still, she pushed the door hard enough to make him wince.

“We don’t have anything to say to each other,” she snapped.

“I think we do. Come on, Cass. Let me in.”

After a long pause where she continued to shove the door painfully against his foot, she finally shrugged and stepped back. He followed before she had a chance to change her mind.

Inside, he saw the cabin’s floor plan matched his. Here, though, it was obvious Cassie had decorated it to suit her personality. It was warm and comforting, with richly textured rugs and pillows and Native American artwork covering the walls.

Cassie was a nurturer. She always had been, even as a girl just barely out of high school. She used to talk about her brothers raising her, but he had spent enough time with the family to know she took as much care of them as they did her. The Hartes looked out for each other.

The cabin reflected that nesting instinct of hers.

He smiled a little at an assortment of whimsical, ugly, carved trolls filling an entire shelf above her mother’s rocking chair. She’d been collecting them since she was a girl and he recognized several new ones since he had last seen her collection.

He narrowed his gaze, looking closer. Where were the little kissing trolls he’d given her as a gift during their first month together? He couldn’t see the piece here with the rest of the figurines.

He almost asked her what she’d done with it—why she hadn’t set it out, too—but then clamped his teeth against the question. He had no right to ask her. Even if she burned it and flushed the ashes down the toilet, nobody would have blamed her.

“This is nice,” he murmured instead.

“You must live in some grand mansion somewhere, now that you’ve hit the big time.”

He thought of his cold, impersonal apartment in Denver, with its elegant furniture he was never quite comfortable using. Her little cabin held far more appeal.

“Not really,” he answered. “It’s a place to sleep and that’s about it.”

There was an awkward pause between them, and he thought about the little trailer home they’d planned to buy in Logan while she finished school. She had decorated it in her head a hundred times, talking endlessly about curtains and furniture and wallpaper. He had even gotten into the spirit of things, something that still amazed him. Neither of them had cared how cramped the little trailer would be. They were too excited about starting their lives together.

She finally broke the silence, her expression stony and cold. “Can we skip the small talk? I’ve had a long day and need to be up at five to start breakfast over at the lodge.”

He pushed away his memories. If he wanted this to work, he had to focus on the present. “Okay. Let’s get down to business. I don’t want you to quit.”

“What you want hasn’t mattered to me for a long time, Zack.”

He ignored her clipped tone. “From all the research my people did before we made the offer, we know that the food at the Lost Creek is one of the main draws of the ranch. In just a few months you’ve developed quite a reputation for delicious, healthy meals.”

He paused, waiting for her to respond, but she remained stubbornly silent. After a moment he went on. “I want to build on that reputation. Use it as a selling point. That’s been one of my goals for the ranch from the beginning.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Zack. You didn’t really think I would stay here and work for you, did you?”

At his continued silence she gazed at him for a moment, then her jaw sagged. “You did! I can’t believe this!”

He had hoped. Now he realized how completely foolish that had been. “You used to be the kind of woman who would never back down from a good fight.”

Her mouth hardened again. “I used to be a lot of things. Ten years is a long time. I’m not the same person I was then. I’ve become much more choosy about the things I’m willing to fight for.”

“And your job isn’t one of them?”

“I won’t lie to you. I like working for the Lost Creek. Jean is a sweetheart and gives me all the freedom I could ever want to create my own menus. But I would rather take a job cleaning truck-stop toilets than stay here and work for you.”

He deserved everything she dished out and more. He knew it, but her words still stung.

“Is there anything I can say to change your mind?”

She shook her head firmly and he chewed the inside of his cheek. He hadn’t wanted to play this card but she was the one folding way too early in the game. “Fine,” he said, his voice cool and detached. “I’ll let Jean know in the morning that Maverick will have to pass on the ranch.”

Her eyes widened, and that stubborn little jaw threatened to sag again. “You can’t! You’ve already signed papers. Jean already has a check.”

“Earnest money, that’s all.” He refused to let the shocked outrage in her voice deter him. “We had thirty days to reach a final decision on the sale. I’ll just tell Jean I’ve changed my mind.”

“You’re willing to walk away from the whole deal just because I refuse to work for you?”

“I’m a businessman, Cassie, as unbelievable as you seem to find that. The food you provide is an important component of the ranch’s appeal to its guests. Who knows what kind of an impact your resignation will have? I don’t want to take that risk.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look serious?” He brushed an imaginary piece of lint off the sleeve of his shirt while she continued to gape at him.

“This is blackmail,” she hissed.

“Call it what you want.” He smiled as if his whole world wasn’t riding on this moment.

“You bastard.” Her voice quivered with fury.

Her reaction cut deep, but he only smirked. “You think I’ve never been called that before?”

“I’ll just bet you have.”

“I never would have made it this far without a thick skin.”

“Just like every other snake in the world, right?”

Her eyes were bright with anger, and hot color flared high on her cheekbones. He wanted to reach across the distance between them and kiss away her anger, wanted it so badly his bones ached with it. He clamped down hard on the need for some kind of contact—any kind—between them.

“Think what you want about me—”

“Oh, I do. You can bet I do.”

He went on as if she hadn’t interrupted him. “But as far as I’m concerned, you’re part of the package deal.” He paused. “However, I can understand your reluctance, given our unfortunate history.”

She snorted. “Unfortunate, my eye. The day you ran out on me was the luckiest day of my life.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’m trying to be reasonable here, Cassie, but you’re not making it very easy.”

She remained stubbornly silent.

“As I was saying,” he said, “I understand why you might want to find a new position. So I’m willing to make a deal with you.”

“What kind of deal?” Suspicion coated her voice like a thin sheet of ice on a puddle.

“You stay the thirty days until the sale is finalized, and Maverick won’t back out. In the meantime you can hire someone as your replacement, someone who can learn your menus and build on your success.”

“And what do I get in return, besides the oh-so-appealing pleasure of your company?”

The Boy Scouts probably would have laughed themselves silly if he’d ever tried to join up, but he certainly believed heartily in their motto about being prepared.

Through a little casual conversation with Jean during the negotiations for the guest ranch, his lawyer had learned Cassie’s job at the ranch was always considered temporary between the two women, that she was saving for a down payment on the diner in town.

Why she didn’t use some of the vast Diamond Harte resources was beyond him, but in this case her typical dogged determination worked to his advantage.

“Stick it out for thirty days, and I’ll give you a bonus of five thousand dollars.”

Only the slightest flicker in her gaze betrayed that she had even heard him. “I don’t want your money.”

He shrugged. “Then stay for Jean’s sake. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you it will probably be a long time before she’ll see another offer as good as the one we’ve made.”

Not just a long time. Never. Cassie drew in a breath, trying to gather the thoughts he seemed to scatter so easily. Maverick had offered far more than the appraised value for the ranch. And who knew when Jean would even get another offer? The ranch had been on the market for a year already with little to show for it but a few nibbles.

He had her backed against the wall, and he damn well knew it. Would he be ruthless enough to make good on his threat to renege on the deal, even knowing he would hurt a sweet, feisty woman like Jean Martineau in the process?

Yes. She didn’t doubt it for a second.

She wasn’t stupid enough to buy his argument that the ranch’s reputation would suffer without her. She was a good cook but there were plenty of others who could pick up right where she left off. No, he wanted her here for his own sinister reasons. She couldn’t begin to guess what they might be. Just thinking about his motives made her stomach flip around like a trout on the end of a line.

On the other hand, Jean was her friend. She had been kind to her and given Cassie a chance to prove herself, when all she had for experience was ten years spent cooking for her family’s cattle ranch.

How would she be able to live with herself if the deal fell through because of her?

Anyway, what did it matter who signed her paycheck? She probably wouldn’t even see him during that thirty days. The president and CEO of Maverick Enterprises most likely didn’t have a spare second to spend hanging around supervising a dude ranch in western Wyoming. He would probably be here for a few days and then crawl back under whatever rock he’d been hiding under.

The realization cheered her immensely. She could handle a few days. She was a strong and capable woman. Besides, he didn’t mean anything to her anymore. Any feelings she might have had for him so long ago had shriveled up and blown away in the endless Wyoming wind.

“Ten thousand dollars,” she said promptly. With that much, she’d have all she needed to make the down payment Murphy wanted.

“You really think you’re worth that much?”

She refused to let him see her flinch at his words. “At least.”

“Okay. Fine. Ten it is.”

She had never expected him to agree. The very fact that he did left her as wary as a kitten in the middle of a dogfight. “One month, then. For Jean’s sake.”

At least he didn’t spin her platitudes about how she wouldn’t regret it. Instead his dazzling smile sent a chill of premonition scuttling down her spine. She ignored it and held the door open for him to leave in a blatant message even Zack Slater couldn’t disregard.

After a pause he sent her another one of those blasted smiles and obediently trotted for the door. As he walked out into the cool June night toward his own cabin next door, she couldn’t help wondering if she had just made the second biggest mistake of her life.

He was already up and dressed when he heard her leave her cabin an hour before sunrise.

From his comfortable spot in the old wooden rocker, Zack listened to the squeak of her screen door, her footsteps on the wooden planks of her porch, then her sleepy, muffled curse as she stumbled over something in the predawn darkness.

He grinned into the hidden shadows of his own front porch. His Cassidy Jane had never been much of a morning person. Apparently, she hadn’t changed much in the past decade.

His smile slid away. Wrong, he reminded himself again. Maybe she still wasn’t crazy about getting up early, but she was no longer the same girl he had loved ten years ago. Everyone changed. He couldn’t come back after so long and expect her to have waited for him in suspended animation like some kind of moth trapped in glossy amber.

She was a different woman, just as he had changed drastically from that wild, edgy ranch hand. The only thing they shared was a bittersweet past ten years old.

But last night in her house he had seen glimpses of the girl she had been, like some kind of ghostly reflection shimmering under deep, clear water. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear. The stubborn jut of her chin as she had argued with him. Those luminous blue eyes that showed every emotion.

She was the same but different, and he wanted to find out all the ways she had changed over the years.

He would see this through. He had come too damn far to back down now. If nothing else, he could at least explain to her why he had left. He owed her that much.

On impulse, he rose from the comfortable old rocker and followed her on the gravel pathway toward the lodge, maintaining a discreet distance between them.

The early-morning air was cool, sharp and sweet with pine pitch and sagebrush. He inhaled it deeply into his lungs, listening to the quiet. He had missed this place. More than he realized, until the day before when he returned.

He bought his own ranch in the San Juans a few years ago and he escaped to it as often as he could manage, but it wasn’t the same. Western Colorado had never felt as comfortable to him as Star Valley.

As right.

The months he spent working the Diamond Harte were the best of his life. Not just because of Cassie, although he had watched her and wanted her for a long time before that fateful trip into the high country when he had kissed her for the first time.

Cassie was a big part of his bond to this place, but there was more. Her brother Matt had treated him well, far better than any other man he’d worked for over the years.

Wandering ranch hands without their own spreads generally had a social status roughly equivalent to a good cow dog. He’d become accustomed to it as a boy following his father from ranch to ranch across the West. He didn’t like it but he accepted it.

At the Diamond Harte, everything had been different. Zack had been given more responsibility than he’d ever had before. He’d been treated as an equal, as a trusted friend.

And he had repaid that trust by abandoning the boss’s sister a week before their wedding.

He frowned and pushed the thought away, concentrating instead on moving quietly several yards behind her. By now they had reached the lodge. Instead of going in the main door, Cassie slipped around the back of the big log structure and unlocked a door on the side, going straight into the kitchen, he assumed.

After a moment’s debate as to the wisdom of another confrontation with her so early in the game, he gave a mental shrug, twisted the knob and walked inside.

He found her standing across the large, comfortable kitchen with her back to him, her arms reaching behind her as she tied on a crisp white apron.

She didn’t bother looking up at his entrance. “I’m glad you’re on time this morning, Greta. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us for breakfast if we’re going to do this right today. As much as I would love to serve a steaming bucket of slop to Zack Slater, I can’t do that to Jean.”

He paused several seconds, then couldn’t resist. “I appreciate that,” he drawled. “How about we save the bucket of slop for tomorrow? I think I’d prefer bacon and eggs this morning.”

She whirled around at his voice, her blue eyes going wide. Color soaked her high cheekbones but she didn’t apologize, just tilted her chin a little higher as her cool beauty punched him hard in the gut. “You’re up early.”

He leaned a hip against one of the wide counters. “I spent too many years as a ranch hand. Old habits, you know. It’s tough for me to sleep past six these days.”

“It’s only half past five,” she pointed out. “You have another half hour to laze around in bed.”

“Must be all this fresh, invigorating mountain air.” Or something.

“Well, I’m afraid you’re too early for breakfast.” Her voice was sharp as she reached for a metal pan on a shelf. “We don’t start serving until seven.”

“I can wait.”

She studied him for a moment, then pursed her lips together. “If you’re starving, there might be a few muffins left over from yesterday. And the coffee will be ready in a few moments.”

Despite the grudging tone of voice, her words still reached in and tugged at his heart and he saw another ghostly reflection of the woman he had loved, the soft-hearted nurturer who hated to see anybody go hungry on her watch. Even him.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. Better than fine. He thoroughly enjoyed watching her bustle around the kitchen, even though her movements were jerky and abrupt, without her customary elegant grace.

His presence unnerved her. He could see it in the way she fumbled through drawers and rummaged blindly in the huge refrigerator.

Under ordinary circumstances she probably knew this kitchen like she knew her own name, but you’d never be able to tell by her movements this morning.

He found it very enlightening to see her composure slip. Enlightening and entertaining.

Somewhat ashamed of himself for finding secret pleasure in the knowledge that he could fluster her so much just by invading her space, he straightened from the counter. “Can I help you do something?”

She peered around the chrome door of the refrigerator to stare at him. “You mean like cook?”

He shrugged. “I have been known to rattle a few pots from time to time.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Why would the CEO of Maverick Enterprises volunteer to cook breakfast for ten hungry families?”

Because the CEO of Maverick Enterprises has spent ten years mooning over the chef. “Maybe I’m bored.”

“Don’t you have some kind of leveraged buyout or hostile takeover to mastermind somewhere?”

“I’m all leveraged out this morning. And I’ve found takeovers to be generally much less hostile once I’ve had my morning coffee.”

She didn’t return his smile, just watched him with that suspicion brimming out of her blue eyes. Finally he decided not to argue with her. Instead, he picked up a knife and went to work cutting up the green peppers she’d pulled from the refrigerator.

“Am I doing this right?”

She watched him for a moment, a baffled look on her features, then she shrugged. “You’re the boss. If you want to play souschef, don’t let me stop you. Dice the pieces a little smaller, though.”

She returned to rifling through the refrigerator, and they worked in silence for a few moments, the only sounds in the kitchen the thud of the knife on the wooden cutting board and the delicate shattering of eggshells from across the room.

He had a quick memory of other meals they had cooked together, when he had been free to sneak up behind her if the mood struck him. When he could wrap his arms around her and lift her long, thick hair to plant kisses on the spot right at the base of her neck that drove her crazy, until she would turn breathlessly into his arms, the meal forgotten.

They had ruined more than one meal at the Diamond Harte together. He smiled at the mental picture, and of the slit-eyed look her older brother would give him when he would come in and find something burning on the stove and the two of them flushed and out of breath.

Not caring for the direction of his thoughts or the awkward silence between them, he looked for a distraction, finally settling on what he thought would be a benign topic of conversation.

“So how’s your family these days?” he asked.

The egg she had just picked up slid out of her fingers and landed on the floor. She made no move to clean it up, just stood across the kitchen staring at him with her eyes murky and dark.

He only meant to make a casual inquiry. What had he said? “Was that the wrong question?”

“Coming from you, yeah, I’d say it’s the wrong question.” With color again high on her cheekbones, she snapped a handful of paper towels off a roll and bent to clean up the egg mess.

He set the knife down carefully on the cutting board and frowned at her. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not allowed to ask how your brothers are doing these days?”

She rose, her eyes hard, angry. “I will not let you do this to me, Slater. I can’t believe you have the gall to show up here after all these years and act like nothing happened.”

While he was still trying to figure out how to answer that fierce statement, she shoved the paper towel in the garbage, then returned to cracking eggs with far more force than necessary.

“My brothers are fine.” Her voice was as clipped as her movements. “Great. Jess is the police chief in Salt River. He and his fiancé are planning a late July wedding. Matt remarried a few months ago, and he and his new wife are deliriously happy together. She’s a vet in town and she’s absolutely perfect for him.”

He wondered about the defiant lift to her chin as she said this, as if daring him to say something about it. “So he and—what was her name? Melanie, wasn’t it?—aren’t together anymore?”

She didn’t say anything for several moments. At her continued silence, he looked up from the cutting board and saw with some shock that she was livid. Not just angry, but quaking with fury.

The woman he’d known a decade ago rarely lost her temper, but when she did, it was a fierce and terrible thing. He only had a second to wonder what had sparked this sudden firestorm when she turned on him.

“No, they’re not together anymore.” Her voice sounded as if it was coated with ground glass. “They haven’t been together since you ran off with her.”

He blinked at the cold fury in her eyes. “Since I what?”

She turned away from him. “I’m really not in the mood for this, Slater. I have too much to do this morning if I’m going to feed your guests.”

His own temper began to spiral. “The hell with the guests. I want to know what you’re talking about. Why would you say I ran off with Melanie?”

“Hmm. Let me think. Maybe because you did?”

“The hell I did!”

“Drop the innocent act, Zack. People saw you. Jesse saw you. The two of you were making out in the parking lot of the Renegade. There are variations on the story but from what numerous people told me, she was climbing all over you like the bitch in heat that she was, and you weren’t doing much to fight her off. Before Jess could beat the living daylights out of you, you and my darling ex-sister-in-law climbed into your truck and drove off into the sunset, never to be seen in Star Valley again.”

His mind reeling, he scrambled to come up with something to say to that stunning accusation.

Before he could think past the shock, the side door swung open and the teenager who had greeted him the day before with such dumbstruck inadequacy whirled in, tucking a T-shirt into her jeans as she came.

“Sorry I’m late, Cassie. I slept through my alarm again.”

The kitchen simmered with tension, with the fading echoes of her ridiculous claims. The idea that he would take up with that she-devil Melanie Harte was so ludicrous he didn’t know where to start defending himself.

“No problem, Greta. You can take over for Mr. Slater. He was just leaving. Isn’t that right?” she challenged him, her lush mouth set into hard lines.

He wanted to stay and have this out, to assure her he would rather have been hog-tied and dragged behind a pickup truck for a couple hundred miles than go anywhere with Melanie. He didn’t want to do it in front of an audience, though. And since he couldn’t figure out a polite way to order the poor girl out of the kitchen, he decided their shoot-out could wait.

“This isn’t over,” he growled.

Her eyes were still hot and angry. “Yes, it is, Zack. It was over ten years ago. You made sure of that.”

He studied her for a few moments, then set the knife down carefully on the cutting board and walked out of the room before he said something he knew he would regret.

As Cassie watched him leave, a vague unease settled on her shoulders like a sudden summer downpour.

Why did he seem so astonished when she told him she knew he left with Melanie? Was he honestly dense enough to think they could both disappear on the same night and nobody would be smart enough to put two and two together and come up with four?

He had definitely been shocked, though. That much was obvious. He couldn’t have been faking that dazed, dismayed expression.

She shrugged off the unease. She had too much work waiting for her, to sit here trying to figure out what was going through the mind of a man who was a virtual stranger to her now.

“Do you want more green peppers?” Greta asked.

She saw that Slater had diced a half dozen, far more than she really needed for the huevos rancheros. “No. That’s plenty. Why don’t you start putting together the fruit bowl?”

While Greta moved around the kitchen gathering bananas and strawberries and grapes, she kept sending curious little looks her way. Cassie ignored them as long as she could, then finally gave a loud sigh. “What?”

Greta yanked a grape off a cluster and popped it into the bowl. “Just wondering what that was all about. What’s the story with you and the new boss?”

For a moment she was surprised at the question, then she realized the teenager would have been only a child a decade ago, too young to hear about the biggest scandal in town. “Nothing. No story.”

Greta raised her eyebrows doubtfully. “What were you saying has been over for ten years, then?”

She didn’t want to talk about this. Especially not with someone who had a reputation for garbling stories until they had no resemblance whatsoever to the original.

On the other hand, Slater’s return was a rock-solid guarantee that the whole ugly business was going to be dredged up all over town, anyway. She might as well get used to answering questions about him. “It was a long time ago,” she said tersely. “We were engaged, but it didn’t work out.”

There. That was a nice, succinct—if wildly understated—version. It seemed enough for Greta. “You were engaged to the CEO of Maverick Enterprises?”

“Like I said. A long time ago.”

“Wow! That’s so romantic. Maybe he came back to try to win your heart again.”

When pigs fly.

“I strongly doubt it,” she murmured, then tried desperately to change the subject. “When you’re done there, you can start squeezing the orange juice.”

Greta wasn’t so easily distracted. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s gorgeous. Like some kind of movie star or something.”

Gorgeous he might be. But Cassie didn’t have the heart to tell the starry-eyed teenager that beyond that pretty face, Zack Slater was nothing but trouble.

She was telling the truth.

Two hours later Zack poked at a runny omelette and half-cooked hash browns with his fork, trying hard to pretend he didn’t notice the sullen whispers and the not-so-subtle glares being thrown his way by the Salt River locals.

When he had lived here before, Murphy had a well-earned reputation for good, hearty meals. Either the service and the menu had drastically gone downhill or Murphy was saving all the edible food for his other customers.

He supposed he was lucky to get anything, given the overwhelmingly hostile atmosphere in the diner.

When he walked into the café—with its red vinyl booths and mismatched paneling—the breakfast conversation of the summer crowd had ground to an awkward halt like a kid cartwheeling down a hill and hitting the bottom way too fast.

At first he figured everybody focused on him only because he was a new face in town. It was a sensation he was well acquainted with after spending most of his life being the worthless drifter who would never quite belong.

By the time the waitress slammed a menu down in front of him, the tension in the diner still hadn’t eased a bit, and he began to suspect the attention he was receiving had its roots in something else.

So a few people remembered him from a decade ago. Big deal.

Soon the whispers began to reach him, and it didn’t take long to hear his name linked with Melanie Harte’s.

Cassie hadn’t been making it up. Judging by the reaction at Murphy’s, everybody in town thought he had not only had been chicken enough to run out on his sweet, loving bride-to-be less than a week before the wedding but that he’d stolen her brother’s wife in the bargain.

The one taste of greasy eggs he’d managed to choke down churned in his gut.

Son of a gun.

He had known that leaving so abruptly a decade ago would cause a scandal, that Cassie would be hurt by it. He’d had his reasons for going, and at the time they had sure seemed like good ones.

Hell, when it came right down to it, he hadn’t really been given much of a choice, had he?

At the time—and in the years since—he had tried to convince himself that leaving was the least hurtful option. He was going to break her heart eventually. He knew it, had always known it, even as they had planned their future together.

This way was best, he’d decided. Better to do it quick and sharp, like ripping off a bandage.

But he would have stayed and faced all the grim consequences if he had for one moment dreamed everybody would link his disappearance with a twisted, manipulative bitch like Melanie Harte.

What the hell were the odds that they both had decided to run off on the same night?

Cassie would never believe it was only a coincidence. He couldn’t blame her. He had a hard time believing it himself.

Giving up on the eggs, he sipped at his coffee, which was at least hot and halfway decent. Of course, Murphy and his glowering minions probably hadn’t had time to whip up a new pot of dregs just for him.

What was he supposed to do now? Going into this whole thing, he’d been prepared for a tough, uphill climb convincing Cassie to give him another chance.

To forgive him for walking out on her.

Tough was one thing. He could handle tough, had been doing it his whole life.

But he’d never expected he would have to take on Mount Everest.

Maybe he ought to just cut his losses and leave. He had plenty of other projects to occupy his mind and attention. Too many to waste his time on this hare-brained idea.

This little hiatus from company headquarters was playing havoc with his schedule. Maybe it would be best for everyone involved if he just handed the Lost Creek over to one of the many competent people who worked for him and return to what he did best.

Making money.

He sipped at his coffee again. Why did the idea of returning to Denver now seem so repugnant? He had a good life there. He’d worked damn hard to make sure of it. He had a penthouse apartment in town and a condo in Aspen and his ranch outside of Durango.

He had a company jet at his disposal and a garage full of expensive toys. Everything a man should need to be happy. Yet he wasn’t. He hadn’t been truly happy since the night he drove out of Star Valley.

“You want anything else?” The waitress stood by the table with a coffeepot in her hand and surliness on her face.

Yeah. He wanted something else. He wanted a woman he couldn’t have. Was there anything more pathetic?

“No. I’m finished here.”

“Fine. Here’s your tab. You can pay the cashier.” She yanked the ticket from the pocket of her apron and slapped it down on the table, then turned away without an ounce of warmth in her demeanor.

Okay. So this little junket into town had established he wasn’t going to be welcomed back to Star Valley with open arms by anyone. He fingered the tab for a moment, tempted to climb into his Range Rover parked outside and just keep on driving.

No. That’s what he had done a decade ago, and look where it had gotten him. He wouldn’t give up. Not yet.

He could show Cassidy Harte—and everybody else in town, for that matter—that his stubborn streak would beat hers any day.

With new determination he slid out of the booth, reached into his wallet and pulled out a hundred, just because he could. He left it neatly on top of the ticket then walked out the door, leaving the whispers and glares behind him.

The morning air was clean and fresh after the oppressive atmosphere inside the diner. It was shaping up to be a beautiful summer day in the Rockies, clear and warm.

He nodded to a man in uniform walking through the parking lot toward him, then did a double take.

Hell.

Cassie’s middle brother, Jess, was walking toward him, fury on his features. Great. Just what he needed to make the morning a complete success.