“No.”
“Maybe he and your mother—” She didn’t know how to be delicate about it. “Maybe they had a relationship at some point. You know. Maybe—”
He gave a bark of laughter that was entirely without mirth. “You suggesting Otis Lambert was my father?”
She spread her hands. “Well, couldn’t it be possible?”
His lips thinned. “No.”
“Are you sure? A son would have the first rights of inheritance over a distant cousin! Everyone knows your mother raised you on her own. Isn’t it possible that—”
“No.” He sighed and shoved his hand through his black hair. “Just because I don’t talk about it doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly who my father was. And it most definitely was not a man named Otis Lambert.”
The wind whooshed right out of her sails and she flopped down into one of the upholstered chairs fronting his wide desk. “Anyone can make a deal with Snead. You certainly don’t need me there to do it. And frankly—” she stared down at her hands, “—I’m not sure I have the stomach for it.”
“Why?”
It took no effort whatsoever to summon an image of Jed. There hadn’t been a single day since she’d left Weaver that he hadn’t been in her thoughts. And Lord knew the man wasn’t chasing after her.
Why would he?
April had been nothing more for him than a night of comfort.
She couldn’t even blame him for it.
She was the one who’d made more out of their lovemaking than it was.
She was worse than Kenneth; spinning romance out of thin air.
“April,” Gage prompted. “What’s the problem?”
“It’s just, um—” She spread her hands. “I don’t want—”
He waited, one eyebrow lifted.
When she still didn’t manage to produce any credible argument, he opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out an envelope. “You can deliver this, too.” He slid it across to her. “It’s a donation—a real donation—to that library thing.”
She peeked inside the envelope to see the amount listed on the check, and this time it was her turn to raise her eyebrows. The donation that she’d already made on Stanton’s behalf at Vivian’s fund-raiser had been just a few hundred dollars.
This donation was in an entirely different class.
She looked up at Gage. “That’s a lot of interest in a library thing. In a small town. In another state.” It wasn’t the typical kind of infrastructure that concerned them. Not unless it was a housing development, and that wasn’t Gage’s goal at all.
He shrugged. “I’ve met Vivian,” he said as if that explained it all.
And who was April to say that it didn’t?
It was Gage’s money, after all. It was his choice how he wanted to spend it.
She flicked the envelope in her fingers. “Fine. I’ll deliver the check and meet with Snead.” She thought about the preliminary proposal they’d prepared for Otis. The one she’d left with Jed a month ago. “Am I putting a proposal to him, then? From everything Archer said about Snead, I think the only thing he’ll care about is a dollar figure.”
“Straightforward money deal. You know what our range is. Start at the bottom and see how it floats. If he won’t agree even at the top, then let me know. I’ll decide then if we’ll go higher or walk away.”
She couldn’t help herself. “You’d actually go higher?”
“To own a mountain of undeveloped, pristine wilderness? I might.”
She pressed her palms together. “What, uh, what about the ranch house? The cattle and everything?” What about Jed?
“The ranch is barely profitable. It’s nothing compared with the rest of the mountain.”
“It’s important, too.” The words popped out, earning a curious look from him. Feeling hot inside, she shrugged. “You could...could have a guest ranch maybe.”
“Instead of a resort.” He sounded incredulous.
“Or in addition to. The mountain’s big enough for both. There are lots of people interested in having that experience. Not just, you know, your usual outdoor—” She broke off when his phone buzzed and he shooed her out with his hand as he reached for it.
End of conversation.
April left his office and returned to her own, which was really just a cubicle in a room full of a dozen identical others. She packed up her laptop and slid it into her briefcase and headed out.
She stopped by her apartment to change out of her work clothes into sandals and a flowered pullover shift. Feeling disgruntled, she threw more clothes into an overnighter and pitched it all into her car. A full tank of gas later, and she was on the road once again back to Wyoming and Weaver.
The drive took nearly eight hours, thanks to road construction on the two-lane highway between Braden and Weaver. With winter finally in the rearview mirror, road repairs and improvements were in full gear.
When Rambling Mountain came into view in the distance, looking purple in the lengthening sunlight, she wanted to turn around and drive another eight hours just to get away.
Of course, she didn’t.
She just kept driving toward the mountain, pulling closer and closer until she reached the turnoff for the ranch road.
She hadn’t bothered calling ahead to the Double-C. She’d left just as abruptly three weeks ago as she’d be arriving now.
When she drove through the timbered entrance, all she could think about was that kiss the night Jed had followed her from Colbys, and it left such an acute ache inside her that she felt shaky. The feeling hadn’t abated even when she finally reached the circle drive at the big house.
She drove around to the side of the house where the usual scattering of ranch vehicles were parked. She parked next to an SUV bearing the Double-C brand on the door, grabbed her belongings from the trunk and pushed her way through the screen door into the mudroom.
She dumped her briefcase and overnighter on the floor next to the enormous washing machine. “I’m back,” she announced needlessly as she headed into the kitchen, where she could see supper was in full progress.
A half-dozen surprised faces turned her way.
April saw none of them.
None of them, because Jed was sitting right there, with her uncle Matthew on one side and her grandmother on the other.
She was glad she’d already set down her bags, because if she hadn’t, she was pretty sure she would have dropped them right then and there.
Gloria was the first one to jump up. She gave April a squeeze. “Sweetheart, why didn’t you call?”
“Bad cell reception,” she lied, trying to keep from staring too obviously at Jed. She closed her hands over the back of the one noticeably empty chair. “Where’s Squire? And please don’t tell me the two of you are still fighting about Vivian Templeton.”
“Council meeting,” Gloria provided. “And don’t worry. We’re speaking again.”
“Just not about library projects or anything else to do with Vivian,” Matthew said wryly.
April smiled and managed a light laugh, though in truth she was more than a little relieved.
She leaned over her aunts and uncles to give them quick kisses and muttered a hello to Jed only because it would be noticeable if she didn’t.
“Sit down, honey. We’re all finished, but I’ll get you a plate. Been so warm, we’ve had our first outdoor grilling of the season.”
“Actually, I, um...” She looked over her shoulder toward the door. “I just needed to drop off my stuff. There’s something I still have to do.”
“What?”
“Just, uh, just...stuff.” She knew she was flushing but there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. She bumped into the doorway as she backed out of the kitchen and nearly tripped over her own suitcase before she managed to push through the screen door again.
>
The gravel crunched under her sandals as she hurried around the house and to her car.
She didn’t have a destination in mind. Only a desire to escape.
“April.”
His voice made her flinch. She ignored it and yanked open her car door.
Unfortunately, that was as far as she could go, considering her keys were inside her briefcase.
Which was still in the mudroom.
Jed pulled open the car door and looked down at her. Not saying a word.
Just standing there. Wearing a clean white shirt rolled up to his elbows and untucked over faded blue jeans. Dark brown eyes frowning down at her.
Her nerves were too frayed. “What are you doing here?”
“Eating supper.”
She wanted to launch out of the car and shove him. She rubbed her hands over the steering wheel, fingers clenching and unclenching. “Don’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Exactly!” She shot him a look. “Why? Why are you here?”
“Your uncle’s offered me a job.”
Her breath wheezed out of her. “But what about the Rambling Rad?”
He propped his arm on the roof of the car, which only stretched his shirt across the flat of his stomach.
She tightened her hands again around the steering wheel just to make sure they didn’t go and do something incredibly stupid, like reach out to touch him.
“Otis is gone. It’s not my ranch. Remember?”
Her shoulders sank. “How could I forget?” She chewed the inside of her cheek and looked up at him. The last time she’d seen him—before the part in his bunkhouse-for-one—he’d looked as dreadful as a man could after literally burying his friend.
And despite Jed’s assertion that he’d only worked for Otis, there was no doubt the man had been his friend.
Now he looked at least more rested. His eyes weren’t bloodshot from lack of sleep or whatever.
“How are you?”
He pushed his fingers into the front pocket of his jeans. “How do I look?”
Too good for words.
She redirected her gaze upward again somewhere beyond his right ear. “Like you need a haircut.” She kept her voice crisp. But then ruined it all because she really did have too short a supply of willpower where he was concerned. Her gaze went back to his. Searching. “You really want to work for the C?”
“You think I shouldn’t?” His fingers drummed the roof of the car. “It’s your family’s ranch. What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing! It’s just—” She looked out her car windows at the ranch trucks. The outbuildings. The big house might be pretty modest, but nothing else about the ranch was. “I know it’s a cattle ranch, but the Double-C is quite a corporate enterprise now.” Everyone in the family held shares. Even her. There were employees who were the typical ranch hand, and there were ones who sat in an office on computers logging this and tracking that. “There is a big difference between working on a ranch like this and running a couple hundred head by yourself on the Rad.”
“So?”
“So—” she lifted her shoulders “—I’m not saying you wouldn’t be good at anything you want to do, it’s just, well you—you don’t strike me as being particularly corporate minded.”
His lips twisted. “Baby, you have no idea.”
“Don’t call me baby.” Her cheeks went hot. “I, uh, I have a name.”
His eyebrow peaked. “From now on, you’ll be forever April, then.”
He couldn’t possibly know what a blow that felt like. He didn’t know she’d seen the inscription in his wedding ring.
She should have left well enough alone.
“What’re you doing back here?”
Of course he wouldn’t expect her to return because of him.
She exhaled and looked down at her toes, freshly painted bright blue in honor of sandal season. The color choice might have been a mistake. “Same thing as before. Gage’s interest in the mountain hasn’t changed. He wants it. Period.” She eyed him from beneath her lashes. “H-have you met him? Louis Snead?”
He drummed the roof of the car again. “Everyone in town has probably met the guy by now.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s going to inherit everything. Man’s no fool. He knows what it is worth. He’s been talking to everyone in town.”
“Are you still looking after it? The ranch?”
“I told you I would.”
“Until someone makes you stop,” she remembered.
“From the way things are going, that’s going to happen sooner rather than later.”
“Has Snead been up to the cabin?”
“He doesn’t care about the cabin. Doesn’t care about anything except selling it and everything else.” Jed’s drumming finally stopped. “Right up your alley.”
She restlessly pushed him out of her way and climbed out of the car. There was no point in pretending she was heading anywhere. “Don’t make it sound like something dirty. If Stanton buys it, the integrity of the land will be respected at least. He wouldn’t be mining or drilling.” She leaned against the side of the car, arms folded. “You told me once that you disagreed with Otis about what he should have done with the land.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, does it.”
He hadn’t meant it as a question, but she took it as one anyway. “If it were up to you.”
His eyes turned flat. “But it isn’t. Otis and I got what we needed from each other. He got a strong back from me and I got a reason to get up in the morning. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I think having a reason to get up in the morning is quite a lot, actually.” The pinging of his chunky gold wedding ring hitting a porcelain sink was sounding inside her head. “Humor me. What do you think Otis should’ve done with the land?”
He sighed impatiently and took a step, almost as though he was going to walk away from her.
But he didn’t.
“It’s a natural paradise. It should be protected.”
“Wasn’t that what Otis was doing in his life? Protecting it from everyone else?”
“You didn’t know Otis long enough. Hoarding was more the intent. And protecting doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be enjoyed.” He waved an arm toward the mountain that stood sentinel in the distance. “Everyone around here looks up at that mountain and not a single one enjoys it up close. They can’t experience it. They can’t hike to the summit where the snow never entirely melts. They can’t look down in a lake that is so clear it’s unearthly.”
“You sound like an environmentalist. What exactly did you do before Otis? Before Texas?”
A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Took a lot of money from a lot of people and turned it into a lot more.”
“What?”
“I was an investment banker.”
If he’d told her he’d been an acrobat in a circus, she wouldn’t have been more stunned.
He touched his finger to her chin, making her jump. “Close your mouth, Miss Reed.”
She clenched her teeth, swallowing hard. Her cheeks felt positively fiery. She lifted her chin, breaking the contact. “Where?”
“Chicago.”
“I meant what company.”
He exhaled. “Does it matter?”
She shook her head, still feeling stunned. “How’d you go from investment banking to—” she waved her hand “—to the school of ranching according to Otis?”
He propped his hands on his hips and exhaled. His profile was sharp against the thinning sunlight. “That is a long story.”
It was pathetic how easily she forgot that she needed to keep her distance. To stay objective. “I don’t mind a long story.”
She knew he wasn’t going to say more, though. She could read it in his expression even be
fore he lifted his hand and rubbed his thumb along her chin. “Why’d you disappear that morning?”
Her ears suddenly filled with the rushing sound of nerves. “You were the one who was gone when I woke up.”
“I was in the cabin.”
She hadn’t looked. She hadn’t hung around one second longer than it had taken to dress and escape.
It wouldn’t have changed anything, though.
She might have fallen for Jed.
But to him, she’d just been a substitute for the wife he lost.
She made herself shrug. “You know how it is.” She forced out the light words. “Mornings after are always so awkward.” As if she’d ever had a morning after with someone. She was no virgin. But she’d never ever spent an entire night with someone. Never had cared enough to even want to. “It’s not like we’ll have a repeat. I was doing us both a favor.”
Something in his eyes flickered. “Right. No need for things to get awkward. Handy when a girl already gets that.”
She forced her smile to stay put as he walked away, heading toward a dusty pickup truck. A truck she recognized, having seen it often enough parked at the roadblock leading up to the Rambling Rad.
The second that truck started to move, wheels crunching over the gravel, her facade dissolved.
She blinked against the tears burning her eyes as she looked toward Otis’s mountain.
She wished, yet again, that she’d never met her boss, the old man buried on a mountain, or Jed.
Chapter Ten
The wildflowers had spread. In just three weeks, they had nearly filled in all of the turned-over earth of Otis’s grave.
By the time summer ended, Jed knew the only evidence of the grave would be the stone marker.
He poured the water he’d brought up to the ridge over the wildflowers. “Figure this is just the way you wanted it, Otis. Being one with your mountain.”
When the metal bucket was empty, he flipped it over and sat down on it.
He knew that April had to have been the one who’d planted the sprig of flowers after Otis died. He’d seen them, looking spindly and frail among the rocky soil that day she’d disappeared on him. It wasn’t something he’d have thought to do.
A Promise to Keep Page 11
