The Devil in the Saddle
Page 23
Well, except her Instagram account. That had worked out to be a surprisingly good idea. Hallie had spent this morning in a coffee shop going over it. She was at forty-eight thousand followers, but the revenge art had lost its luster for her. She’d done what she’d set out to do with that page, to mentally deconstruct her engagement to Chris. To tear down the symbols of that failed engagement, one by one. There was nothing more to be said for it.
It was time to build her aftermath. Her path forward. Her new leaf.
She revised the title of her page and the description: After the Deconstruction of a High-Society Wedding: The Aftermath. She posted the pictures she’d taken at the kids’ ballet.
And a picture of the mountains and a gentle fall of snow, taken from Uncle Chet’s window.
And a shot of a steaming cup of hot chocolate.
She decided Uncle Chet was right—she did need this time alone to sort through her thoughts. His house was perfect for it—in spite of its opulence, there were few amenities. They had never bothered to install a television, because anyone in Aspen was outdoors until it was time to sleep. The house was so high up in the mountains that there was no cell service. The evenings were supposed to be for cooking good food, drinking excellent wine, and having lively conversations. That was the hard part—she appreciated the solitude and the lack of distractions, and she loved having the opportunity to read uninterrupted . . . but she was also glad Rico had suggested bringing her dog to her on his way to Wyoming. She wouldn’t mind having another warm body around for a couple of days. She’d never been the type to be comfortable alone for long periods of time. Maybe because she was a twin, who knew, but she liked having someone around at the end of the day to talk to.
Nick hadn’t liked the idea of her being in Aspen by herself.
“Why not?” Hallie had asked him.
“I don’t know. You’re my sister. I worry about you.”
“I’ll be fine,” she’d said. “I’m thirty years old. It’s well past time I took care of myself so people don’t have to worry about me. Someone has always been looking out for me, and as a result, I’ve never gotten anywhere on my own. I need to figure things out by myself.”
“Why? What are you trying to prove?” he’d asked her. “What’s wrong with having people to care about you?”
“Nothing! I don’t know. I think it’s held me back, that’s all.”
“No, Hallie, people caring about you hasn’t held you back. You’ve held you back.”
There could be a lot of truth to that, she supposed.
Nick didn’t say more about it. But when they had landed in Aspen, had lunch at the Ajax Tavern, and he’d dropped her off at Uncle Chet’s and made sure the heat was working, he said, “Okay. Do whatever it is you have to do here, and call me when you’re ready to come home.” He’d hugged her, and added, “And don’t spend all our money.”
“I’ll try really hard not to,” she promised.
Nick had laughed. Which, Hallie realized, was a rare sound since Dad had died. “Love you, Nick,” she said.
“Love you more.”
And he was gone. And Hallie was left alone with her thoughts.
* * *
• • •
The next day was sunny and still, the calm before the heavy snow that was predicted for overnight. Hallie was lucky—the caretaker, Mr. Collin, had stocked the fridge and the woodpile before she arrived, so she had what she needed.
She expected Rico at any time, but decided to squeeze in a run while she waited. Rafe would be proud of her—she’d started being serious about getting fit and had been running every day. He was right about running, too—when she ran at the correct speed and with the correct posture, it wasn’t so hard. Every day she managed to go a little farther.
She ran a trail that went into the forest at the end of the drive. She paused along the way to take a photo of herself in mittens and a knit cap on the trail to post to Instagram when she was next in town. She started out at a slow pace, having discovered that running in the thin mountain air was a lot harder than running near the coastline. Her legs felt especially heavy, and she ran out of steam pretty quickly. She ended up walking the last mile back to Uncle Chet’s house, and by the time she turned up the steep drive, snow had begun to fall, she was freezing, and she really needed a bathroom.
A bark brought her head up from her trudge. Sulley was both running and sliding down the steep driveway to her. “Sulley!” she cried, and caught the wiggling puppy, lifting him up off the ground and then getting tangled in his leash. “When did you get here?” she asked, and buried her face in his fur.
Sulley was not content to be carried, and squirmed until she let him down, darting alongside her up the drive, his snout to the ground. About halfway up, Hallie saw the Fontana truck and wondered what Rico had to promise Martin to borrow it for his trip.
Near the top of the drive, Sulley broke away from her and ran as fast as his thick little legs would carry him up the hill. Hallie saw Rico slide off the tailgate of the truck, and she waved. But then her heart did that flippety-floppety thing because that wasn’t Rico, that was Rafe. She stopped in her tracks, confused. Then concerned. And elated at the same time. It wasn’t Rico, it was Rafe. Stubborn, recalcitrant, decent-guy Rafe.
He stood at the top of the drive in a knit cap and quilted jacket. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he looked serious. He didn’t move other than to put one hand down to calm the puppy.
Hallie walked up and stopped a few feet away to catch her breath. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he said.
“Where’s Rico?”
“Grounded.”
“Huh?”
“He’s not ready for a road trip.”
“Oh.” She was confused. Rico had made it sound like everyone was on board with his plan to go to Wyoming and look for work. “So why didn’t he call me?”
“He did. So did I. You don’t answer your phone.”
“I didn’t—oh,” she said, and winced. “No cell service up here. You have to go into town.”
“Well, that would explain it.” He smiled thinly.
Hallie eyed him curiously. “So does this mean you’re—”
“I’m dropping off Sulley,” he said, and rubbed his chin. He was watching her closely. “And I’m heading back.”
“What, tonight? You’re crazy if you think you can start back with a winter storm on its way. And second, you drove for two days to bring Sulley, and now you’re going to drive two days back?”
“Not tonight. I thought I’d get a room in town.”
Why was he being so weird? Hallie snorted as she wrapped her arms around her body. “You can’t find a room in Aspen this time of year. Unless you want to stay at some flea-bitten place.”
He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. Sulley started barking at a ground squirrel. “I’m sure I’ll find something.”
“No, you won’t. Can we talk about this inside? I’m freezing.”
He glanced at the house as if he wasn’t certain he wanted to go inside.
“Rafe,” she said impatiently. “I also have to pee. Come in.” She walked past him, scooping down to grab Sulley’s leash, and went inside.
When she emerged from the bathroom, she found Rafe standing just inside the door, taking in the mountain house. “Nice,” he said. He looked out the enormous picture windows at the view of the mountains. It was a beautiful vista with the snow starting to fall over the peaks.
Hallie tried to gauge his mood. “I’ve got some stew if you’re hungry.”
He turned his gaze from the window. He shoved his hands in his pockets again and looked at the floor. “I should probably find a place to stay.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Stay here. There’s five hundred bedrooms.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
He turned around to look. The snow, which had started just moments ago, was already heavy.
“I can’t get stuck here.”
Hallie laughed at the panic in his expression. “Don’t worry—they clear the drive when it snows. I won’t have to eat you to survive—you can make a clean escape in the morning.”
He lifted a finger. “Minor point, but I’m the Army Ranger. I’d be doing the surviving on you.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Hallie said pertly. “Seriously, Rafe, please don’t drive in this. You can lock yourself in one of the bedrooms if you’re worried about me attacking you.”
“I’m not— That’s not what I’m thinking—”
“What are you thinking, then?”
He chewed on his bottom lip. “I just . . .
His obstinacy was exhausting her. “Look, whatever. There are six bedrooms, but be the Army Ranger and plow out of here if you have to. You’re being surprisingly stupid, but you do you. I’m going to heat the stew.” She turned her back to him and opened the fridge.
A moment later, she heard him walk across the room. She heard the door open and Rafe walk through and the door shut behind him.
He left.
Hallie braced her hands against the kitchen counter and looked heavenward, blinking back a few unshed tears. Rafe had been her oldest and closest friend, and now she’d lost him, too.
Chapter Twenty
This was nuts.
Hallie was right—he was being stupid. He was going to risk his neck going down mountain roads to maybe find a room so he wouldn’t be tempted by her. How could he have survived two tours in Afghanistan and yet couldn’t survive one hot kiss with Hallie Prince?
He hated himself and his lack of panache right now. He’d come here for a reason. He’d come to say what he’d been holding close in his heart all these years. But he had to man up and talk to her. Tell her the goddam truth for once. So he grabbed his things, Sulley’s box of food and toys, and headed back to that enormous mountain house with its sweeping views and six bedrooms.
When he entered the mudroom, he had to step over Sulley, who was racked out at the door, his head on a pair of Hallie’s boots. The puppy was a trooper—he’d ridden shotgun for two days without a whimper, his nose pressed to the window.
When Rafe stepped into the main room, Hallie jerked around. She was holding a tissue, and quickly tossed it into the trash. “I thought you left.”
He frowned. “I wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye, Hallie.”
She looked relieved. She took a breath. “No, you wouldn’t, would you? I mean, I didn’t think you would, but I wondered if . . . are we still friends, Rafe?”
“What? Of course we’re still friends.”
Hallie suddenly flashed that dimple-inducing smile of hers, dipped her knees, and said, “Thank God! I thought you were still mad at me for that damn kiss.”
“No—”
“You are more than welcome to stay here. Far on the other side of the house. I mean, I don’t want to find out if you snore. That would, like, ruin everything for me.”
“Same,” he said. “Thanks, Hallie.”
“No need to thank me. It’s what friends do for friends,” she said, repeating what he’d once said to her. “Would you like a drink? Uncle Chet left all the stuff for gin and tonics. He even left some limes. Before you say anything,” she said quickly, throwing up her hand, “I hid it when I thought Rico was coming.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything. And yes, I would love a drink.”
Hallie turned around to the fridge.
“I’ll be out of here tomorrow,” he announced unnecessarily.
“Good for you, Army Ranger.”
He slid onto a barstool and looked out the window again. It was turning to dusk, and the snow was beautiful. It was quiet here. Serene. Sort of like Three Rivers in the early morning hours. He could see why her uncle had suggested this to her—a person could practically hear their thoughts up here.
“What about Rico’s job?” she asked.
“His job?”
“He said he was getting a job in Wyoming.” She put two glasses on the kitchen bar.
Rafe shook his head. “He had no plan other than to ski. He wasn’t honest with you.”
“Ooh,” she said, nodding. “I get it now.”
“He’s not a bad guy,” Rafe said. “But he doesn’t do well with confinement.” A gross understatement.
“Yeah,” she said thoughtfully. “You know he’s going to bolt sooner or later, right?” she asked as she bent down to the freezer drawer for ice. “I mean, he’s not cut out for ranch life. Not like you and me.”
Were he and Hallie cut out for ranch life? He’d never thought about it that way. “I know,” he said. He didn’t know what Rico was cut out for, really.
She made his drink, squeezed a wedge of lime into it, and slid it across the bar to him. She looked up. Her eyes were shining. She smiled. “I’m glad it was you, Rafe.”
She didn’t have to explain. He wanted to be glad it was him, too.
A soft smile appeared on her lush mouth. “Hey, do you still play checkers?”
“Checkers?”
“There’s not a lot to do here,” she said as she returned to the pot on the stove. “No TV. I brought a bunch of books,” she said, and with the wooden spatula, pointed at a box. “When Uncle Chet and the crew come up here, they sleep, they ski, they eat; rinse and repeat.”
He got up and went to the box of books to have a look. She had brought some fiction, a book about the fundamentals of dance, a guide to Austin.
“So if you’re not a big skier, you have to make do with a book or a game or get creative.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, smiling a little.
Oh, he could get creative. He could think of a million and one ways to pass the time with her, and not one of them involved a book or a puzzle. He sipped the drink. He was feeling less weird about this. Everything felt like it was settling back into place—him quietly, privately pining. Her chatting and talking as if nothing was between them. Maybe he didn’t have to confess. Maybe he could go on loving her in secret. “I’ve got news for you—I’m pretty damn good at checkers.”
Her smile broadened. “You always step up to the plate. The stew should be ready in about ten minutes. Could you build a fire?”
“I knew that Army Ranger training would come in handy someday,” he said, and stood up from the stool.
This felt natural. Like the old Hallie and Rafe. It was easy between them, the tension of their attraction sufficiently shoved under stew and snow and a lot of years of knowing each other. It was crazy, but the snow was quietly, but decisively, closing the world off, and this was beginning to feel unbelievably perfect.
* * *
• • •
They ate stew at the kitchen bar while Rafe’s fire roared in the hearth. He polished off the gin and tonic, then joined her in drinking the wine she’d opened. By the end of the meal, he was feeling mellow and even more comfortable.
He did the dishes while she showered, then set up the checkers. Hallie returned to the living area in sweats and an oversized hoodie, her hair piled on top of her head. He thought about Brittney—he’d never seen her without heavy eyelashes and lipstick, not even when they’d slept together.
He’d put the checkerboard on an ottoman, and she sat cross-legged on one side, while he sat with his back to the couch and his legs stretched before him.
Hallie was a smack talker. “Prepare to be humiliated,” she said. “I don’t take prisoners, I annihilate them. Every checker of yours I conquer, I will throw into the flames of checker hell,” she said very dramatically
, and swept her arm toward the fire.
He laughed. “You’ve played too many video games.”
As they played, she tossed her captured chips into a pile. It reminded Rafe of a rainy weekend many, many years ago, when he and Rico had gone to the mansion with his dad. The Prince kids had pulled out a Monopoly game, and the battle had begun. Hallie had behaved just like she did tonight—with threats and a lot of ho ho hos when she made a good move, and ridiculed him for stacking his chips neatly. The only difference between the thirteen-year-old Hallie and the thirty-year-old Hallie was that the thirteen-year-old Hallie had been sent to her room for unsportsmanlike conduct. She’d beaned Luca with a shoe.
Rafe beat her the first game, and Hallie shrieked with playful dismay. She said she couldn’t believe she’d been beaten by someone who scratched his head so much as he tried to figure out where to move.
Toward the end of the second game, she thought she had it won, and in her best video game voice, she shouted, “Finish him!” so loud that an exhausted Sulley got up from his place in front of the fire and hurried to her side to make sure she was all right.
Hallie thought she had Rafe blocked, but she missed one part of the board where she’d left herself vulnerable. Rafe kinged her.
“No way!” she cried, and pushed his hand away from the board to study it. “Okay,” she said, nodding in concession. “But now you’ve asked for it. I’ve been holding back.” She came up on her knees and began to arrange the board again. “It’s a strategy. You let your guest win a round or two before you start polishing the floor with their fat losing face.”
“I don’t think you really know how to play.”
She gasped with pretend outrage and grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his and squeezing tight. “How dare you? Now I must seek revenge.”
Rafe was smiling. He liked the warmth of her hand and the chill air around them. He was looking at her, thinking of all the times he’d watched her from a distance, always hiding from his feelings.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.