by Devney Perry
QUARTER MILES
Copyright © 2020 by Devney Perry LLC
All rights reserved.
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ISBN: 978-1-950692-19-4
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No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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Editing & Proofreading:
Elizabeth Nover, Razor Sharp Editing
www.razorsharpediting.com
Julie Deaton, Deaton Author Services
www.facebook.com/jdproofs
Karen Lawson, The Proof is in the Reading
Judy Zweifel, Judy’s Proofreading
www.judysproofreading.com
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Cover:
Sarah Hansen © Okay Creations
www.okaycreations.com
Contents
Also by Devney Perry
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Forsaken Trail
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Devney Perry
Jamison Valley Series
The Coppersmith Farmhouse
The Clover Chapel
The Lucky Heart
The Outpost
The Bitterroot Inn
The Candle Palace
Maysen Jar Series
The Birthday List
Letters to Molly
Lark Cove Series
Tattered
Timid
Tragic
Tinsel
Tin Gypsy Series
Gypsy King
Riven Knight
Stone Princess
Noble Prince
Runaway Series
Runaway Road
Wild Highway
Quarter Miles
Forsaken Trail
Dotted Lines
Prologue
“Are you sure about this?” Aria asked. She’d buckled her seat belt but hadn’t closed the passenger door.
The ocean breeze drifted inside the cab and caught the flyaway hairs by my temple. One strand tickled my nose and another stuck to the gloss on my lips.
Was I sure about this?
No.
I wasn’t sure about anything anymore. But that’s what happened in life. You endured the moments of excruciating pain. A death. A heartbreak. A betrayal. You made decisions that would alter the course of your life in the hopes that there was something good waiting for you at the end of the road. You survived today to get to tomorrow.
Yesterday, I’d had a home. I’d had a job. I’d had a family.
Yesterday, I’d been in love.
But a lot had changed since yesterday. Even more had changed in the past five days.
My only wish was that tomorrow, some of this crippling heartache might fade. That the urge to scream and cry would wane.
There was only one way to find out.
I jammed the key into the ignition. “Close the door.”
Chapter One
Katherine
Five days earlier . . .
Eight hundred and thirty-one miles.
My heart thumped harder as I stared at the number on the map. My breath caught in my throat. It was only a road trip but my stomach was in knots.
I hadn’t left Montana since the day I’d arrived. As a fresh-faced and eager eighteen-year-old, I’d found safety here. A home. I’d rarely left the Greer Ranch and Mountain Resort, let alone the state, but I had to get out of here.
I needed every one of those eight hundred and thirty-one miles.
Excitement mixed with anxiety as I closed the GPS app on my phone with trembling fingers. Scanning my office, I racked my brain for anything I’d forgotten to do in my whirlwind attempt to prepare for this no-notice, yet overdue vacation.
The staff had my number in case of an emergency. Emails could wait until I stopped at a gas station or when I was in my hotel room each night. They’d be fine without me for a couple weeks, right? Besides a natural disaster or fire, I could handle almost any emergency remotely.
The resort ran like a well-oiled machine, at least when I was behind the wheel. I’d refined processes and procedures, training my subordinates with precision. My capable team could handle anything that came up for two weeks. As long as no one quit.
Oh God, please don’t let anyone quit. My heart thumped again. Was this how parents felt when they sent their children off to college? No wonder mothers cried and fathers loitered on drop-off day. It was disquieting.
This resort was my baby. My everything. I worked ten-hour days, six days per week. I came in every other Sunday morning to approve payroll and stayed late on Tuesday nights to meet with the chef and go over his upcoming meal plan.
We were heading into the peak summer season and I actually didn’t have time for a road trip across the Pacific Northwest. Maybe I should cancel.
Except I truly, desperately, achingly needed this trip.
Because if I had to see Cash today after he’d spent the past two nights away from home and in a woman’s bed, I’d claw my eyes out. Since I really loved my eyes and the ability to see, I had to get some space.
Eight hundred and thirty-one miles of space, to be exact.
That was how far it was to Heron Beach, Oregon, from Clear River, Montana.
After one last scroll through my email, I shut down my computer, stuffing the laptop along with my phone in my tote. The two pens beside my planner—one red for employee-related tasks, one blue for guest activities—were put into their designated slot in my drawer. The paper clip that was attempting to escape a contract was straightened. The sticky note I’d used for this morning’s checklist was crumpled and tossed in the trash. Then I ran my hand over the back of my executive chair, pushing it under the oak desk.
The clock beside my wall of bookshelves showed I had ten minutes until eight, when I was due at Gemma’s to pick up the Cadillac. I’d been working since five but this nagging feeling that I was forgetting something made me wish I’d come in at four.
I took one last glance at my tidy desk and my eyes caught on the single framed picture I kept beside the phone. It was of me standing with the Greers. As an honorary member of their family, they’d invited—ordered—me to show up on picture day seven years ago. This was the family photo currently on the resort’s website and in its brochures.
Now that Easton and Gemma were engaged and having a baby, I suspected we’d be taking a new photo soon. But this one would always be a favorite. Maybe because it was from so long ago.
Everyone looked the same, more or less. Jake and Carol, the ranch’s founders, had a few more wrinkles these days. Their son, JR, and his wife, Liddy, had both retired. Easton smiled more since he’d fallen in love with Gemma.
But Cash looked exactly the same. Handsome with his devilish grin and bright hazel eyes that reminded me of sunshine streaming through a forest’s leaves.
He had his arm around my shoulders as he smiled straight ahead at the cam
era. Maybe the reason I loved this picture so much was because it was easy to look at it and pretend that we were every bit the loving, happy couple we appeared to be.
Except Cash had been my friend, and only my friend, for twelve years. We’d met early on in my career at the resort, when I’d been a housekeeper and living in the staff quarters. He’d come home from college for spring break and the two of us had hit it off over our mutual love for Mountain Dew. In all those years, he’d never once flirted. He’d never once asked me out or led me on.
This ridiculous and epic crush was entirely one-sided.
I put the frame down, face-first, hiding the picture from view. We weren’t a couple. We wouldn’t be a couple. And it was time to let him go.
It was time for a new picture.
“Katherine?” Carol poked her head through my office door. “Oh, good. You’re still here.”
“Hi.” I smiled at my adopted grandmother and the woman I wanted to become. For as long as I lived, I doubted I’d meet anyone with as much fire and spirit as Carol Greer. “What’s up?”
The smile on her face was warm and gentle as she crossed the room with an envelope in her hand. Her hair was braided in a long, bright-white rope that draped over her shoulder. She was in a soft flannel shirt tucked into a pair of well-worn jeans. The woman had more money than I could even contemplate amassing in my lifetime, and her boots—the ones I’d bought her as a birthday gift five years ago—were scuffed beyond recognition.
“This is for you.” She extended the envelope across my desk.
“What is it?” I took it from her, giving it a sideways glance.
She smiled and the crinkles around her brown eyes deepened. “Open it.”
I lifted the unsealed flap and pulled out a check she’d folded in half. A check for . . . “Oh my God. Carol.”
“It’s just a little something from me and Jake to you.”
“This is not little.” She’d written me a check for ten thousand dollars. “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”
“Yes, you can and yes, you will. It’s a gift. I want you to enjoy this vacation. You haven’t taken one in twelve years. Have fun. Spend that money recklessly. Enjoy your time away. We’ll have everything here covered.”
My eyes stayed glued to the amount. I earned a good living as the general manager at the Greers’ multimillion-dollar resort. My truck was paid for and Cash refused to let me pay rent at the house we shared, so most of my salary went into savings. But seeing the numbers on a computer screen after my bimonthly direct deposit wasn’t quite the same. I’d never held a check, a gift, for ten. Thousand. Dollars. I forced my gaze from the paper. “Thank you. This is . . . thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She nodded and dug into her jeans pocket, pulling out a quarter and handing it over. “And I have one more thing. It comes with a story.”
“Okay.” I smiled. Carol’s stories were my favorite.
She perched on the edge of my desk. “When I was a kid, my daddy took me on a road trip. It was just for a weekend. We were poor and couldn’t afford anything fancy. We loaded up a tent and some sleeping bags and a cooler full of food and set out. My mom was five months pregnant and Dad wanted to do something with just me before my sister was born.”
“That’s sweet.”
“He was a sweet man.” There was so much fondness in her voice. I was glad she’d loved her father and sad that she’d lost him. “We played a game. Heads left. Tails right. That’s how we decided where to go.”
“What a fun idea. Where’d you end up?”
“Not far. I think we spent most of one day driving in circles. But we made it almost all the way to Idaho before the time was up and we had to turn back.”
The quarter, pinched between my finger and thumb, glinted as the sun streamed through the windows at my back.
“Don’t feel like you need to rush back,” she said. “Take two weeks. Take three. Take four. Take the time you need, and if you feel like exploring, flip the coin.”
Four weeks? I swallowed a laugh. She’d be lucky if I actually made it the planned two.
I tucked the quarter into my pocket. “Thank you. For the gift. And for sharing your story.”
She rounded the desk and put her hands on my shoulders. “We love you, Kat.”
“I love you too.” I went easily into her arms, closing my eyes and taking a long breath. She smelled of wind and earth and lilac blooms, sweet, but strong and free.
“Miss you already.”
“You too.” I gave her one last long squeeze, then let her go to heft my tote over a shoulder. “Call me if you need anything. Annabeth has a list of everything that needs to be done for the guests and Easton has the excursion schedule—”
“Honey, did you forget who built this resort from the ground up?” Carol laughed, taking my elbow and steering me for the door. “We’ll manage.”
“I know.” I sighed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be disrespectful. I just feel . . . guilty.”
“Because you work too hard. And I know you don’t mean to be disrespectful. But this is your chance to disconnect. Trust me. We’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” I leaned into her, taking one last glance over my shoulder at the windows and view beyond.
I loved this office. I loved the woman I was in this office. Confident. Commanding. Successful. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I’d grow up to be the woman in the corner office, running one of Montana’s premier, luxury ranch resorts.
Green meadows blanketed the valley bordered by rolling, tree-covered hills. The mountains in the distance stood tall and blue. There was snow on their peaks, the white caps shining under the brilliant morning sky.
It was captivating and bold. Guests from all over the world came to stay here because the landscape was wholly enchanting. There was a reason why I hadn’t taken a vacation in years. When you lived in paradise, why leave?
This trip of mine wasn’t out of wanderlust. It was a necessary escape. The mental image of Cash canoodling with Dany, the surprise girlfriend, at Friday night’s family dinner was enough to make me scream.
Carol escorted me out of my office, flipping off the light as we passed the threshold. She probably felt my itching desire to go back in and check my planner just one more time, so she kept her arm looped with mine, leading—dragging—me down the long hallway. Her boots echoed on the floor’s wooden planks as we passed the row of empty offices.
This wing of the lodge was mostly offices, storage and two conference rooms for the occasional corporation who sent their executives away for a working retreat. Beneath us was the dining room and five-star kitchen. The guest rooms were on the other end of the lodge and we also had chalets and extravagant tents.
We sold Montana luxury. Our guests came here for a traditional Western experience—at least, that was the marketing pitch. Nothing about the Greer resort was traditional. We catered to the uber rich, the celebrities and urban wealthy who wanted to escape reality for a week to go hiking, horseback riding and glamping in Montana.
Our reputation and quality of experience meant we could charge four thousand dollars per night for a lavish, rustic, three-bedroom chalet.
I glanced at Annabeth’s office as we passed, my heart sinking to see it dark and empty. I was late to meet Gemma but I would have felt better had I touched base with at least one employee before leaving.
Besides the kitchen staff who’d been here since six, most of my employees wouldn’t arrive until eight thirty. JR’s office was across from mine, and while technically retired, he liked to come in around eleven each day, giving him plenty of time for one last cup of coffee before raiding the kitchen for lunch.
“I went through the menu for the next two weeks, but when JR comes in today, will you ask him to check in regularly? Chef Wong will go off menu if someone isn’t keeping tabs.”
The man was a brilliant chef who we’d hired from New York, but he forgot at times that we weren’t in Manhattan and our
guests weren’t here to try gourmet fusion.
“Yes, we’ll make sure he stays on menu,” Carol said as we reached the top of the wide, sweeping staircase that dropped to the lobby.
“And will you remind Annabeth that we have a guest in a wheelchair coming Thursday? It’s a little boy with cerebral palsy. They’re staying in the Eagle Ridge Chalet and I’d like to have her escort them personally to make sure the arrangement will work.”
“Anything else?” Carol side-eyed me.
“Um . . .” Yes. About a million things. “You know what? I’ll just email Annabeth from the road.”
“Katherine, will you relax?”
“I’m relaxed.” I forced a too-wide smile as we reached the lobby. The smell of fresh coffee, bacon, eggs and pancakes filled the air. A couple crossed the foyer, headed for the dining room. “Good morning.”
They both smiled and returned my greeting before disappearing to get breakfast.
“Shoot.” I slipped my arm free of Carol’s and rushed to the front desk, where the receptionist’s stool was empty. “I forgot to tell Chef Wong about a party coming next week. They requested a special prime rib dinner, which shouldn’t be a problem, but I don’t want him to forget.”
“Which reservation?” Carol asked, appearing at my side.
“Boyd. They’ll be in the Grizzly Chalet.”
“Okay.” She waved me off and grabbed a pen to scribble on a sticky note. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I can just buzz into the kitchen—”
