by Laurel Greer
“Since now, apparently. But don’t worry, I’m not going to let him give up what he has here anymore than I can walk away from what I have in Manhattan. We’ve both worked too hard to establish ourselves.” Stella patted the hand he still had on her shoulder before shifting away from it.
He locked his knees to make sure he didn’t fall over from the weight of her words.
“Stella—” It was all he could choke out.
“You’re going to tarnish your reputation for nothing,” she chided, her voice carrying a strange tinkling note. “And I’ll be on a plane tomorrow.”
Yeah, with his heart sitting in her lap as the aircraft ascended into the sky.
Georgie regarded Stella disdainfully. “You always were good at running.”
Stella’s jaw dropped, but she didn’t defend herself.
And if she’s not willing to fight to figure out a way around distance and complications, then this won’t work.
If she actually loved him, she wouldn’t have made a joke of him like she just had, no matter how scared she was. He’d put every part of himself out there, and she’d shot him down hard, her belittling words riddling him with holes.
Faking a laugh, and knowing it came out awkward as hell, he nodded at the two women and brushed his thumb along Stella’s cheek one last time. He’d have to call Lachlan and apologize for cutting out early, but no way could he stick around.
“You know, speaking of that case, I should probably get over to the detachment and check on a couple of loose threads. I’ll update you as soon as I can, Georgie. Stella—” he scanned her, taking in her tipped chin and flashing eyes one last time “—travel safe, now.”
* * *
The door clicked behind Ryan, waking up Stella from her frozen state. Georgie’s accusation—“you always were good at running”—had hit her square in the chest. Her mind had been spinning so hard, she’d lost every part of the “smooth-talking, sharp negotiator” reputation she’d carved out since college. And now Ryan had walked out, pain sparking in his blue eyes like ice fragments in the sun. She had to fix this before she left tomorrow.
Pinning Georgie with a firm stare, she said, “I don’t know why you and Gertie think I’m out to tear Ryan’s life apart or rip him away from the community he loves. I don’t think that’s best, either. He loves this place, loves protecting it and feeling a part of it, too much for me ever to want to ask him to give it up. But if that was what he wanted, you all should support him. Just like he has the rest of you for his entire career.”
Georgie, eyes wide with shock, smoothed a hand over her pulled-back hair and opened her mouth to speak.
Stella held up a hand, indicating she wasn’t done. “As for the headlines about me, I can’t discuss them with you. But Ryan trusts me, as does my family. Doesn’t that count for something?” Before the older woman could reply, she added, “Excuse me. I need to go apologize to him.”
Georgie nodded slowly. “Well, good luck then.”
Stella looked to the ceiling in disbelief. “Right.”
“No, I say that with all seriousness.” Georgie held out her hand, a genuine gesture of goodwill.
Stella shook it, and then bolted out the door after Ryan. She tore around the clinic and saw him climbing into his truck across the parking lot. “Wait!”
He stilled, one foot on the running board, and watched her approach.
The air bit with a January frostiness that was only outdone by the chill in his expression.
“Forget something?” he asked, voice ragged.
She stopped a few feet away from him. Shivering, she shoved her hands into the pockets of Maggie’s hooded sweatshirt. “Yeah, my mind, for a second. I’m sorry. Implying you weren’t serious about your feelings—I shouldn’t have said that. I know you mean it.”
His knuckles tensed on the door of the truck. “Yeah, I know that you know. But you said it, anyway. Embarrassed me in front of the people who will influence whether or not I get reelected.”
“I’m sorry.” She reached to cover the hand he’d braced on the door of the truck with hers.
He pulled it away before she could make contact. “I accept that, I do. We all say stupid crap to protect ourselves now and again. But it doesn’t change how you’re still trying to protect yourself. If you can’t trust me after I publicly announced I love you enough to move, there’s nothing else I can do.”
A lump filled her throat. She didn’t resist it dissolving, didn’t bother to hide the tears that spilled over her cheeks. “What if—?”
No. There was no use in asking for a second chance, for more time to find a solution. What was she thinking? Stella had only been good enough for her dad when she was getting professional accolades. She’d never been good enough for her mom. And Lachlan and Maggie—they loved her, despite the fact she didn’t know how to properly love them back. And she saw how much that hurt them. So why do that to another person? Ryan was right—he deserved better than what she could give him.
He stared at her, clearly waiting for her to continue.
“Okay.” She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “Yeah. You, uh, take care of yourself. Good luck with that case. Hopefully you’re wildly successful and put all the bad guys in jail without it going to hell on you like it has happened to me when I tried to do the same thing.”
“Stella. With that—” He swallowed, throat bobbing. He rubbed his jaw, his fingers grazing the short beard there that she hadn’t gotten enough time with. “Call if you need help.”
He climbed into his truck and drove off.
* * *
“He said what?” Gertie’s knees shook and she sat on one of the benches in the town square, disbelief coursing through her veins. Was her hearing finally starting to go? Or maybe her cell phone needed replacing? Because Georgie Halloran couldn’t be correct in her recounting of what sounded like Ryan having offered to move to New York and Stella having rejected him in front of the barn work crew an hour ago. “He can’t—Moving? My God.”
“I’m not sure if Stella managed to patch things up when she ran after him, but he looked mighty brokenhearted when he left the barn,” Georgie informed her. “He said he was headed to work.”
“Well, thank you for telling me.”
Hanging up and pocketing her phone, she hurried over to the emergency-services building. The sheriff’s department was dark and silent but for a small light and the clacking of a keyboard coming from Ryan’s office.
“Honey?” she called, approaching the open door. She halted in the doorway. Ryan’s mouth was turned down, as if he’d never be able to smile again. He didn’t look at her. The cold, stony gaze that looked way too much like his father’s stayed fixed to his computer screen.
“Sweetheart, I—”
“I want to be alone, Gran,” he barked.
Alone? She seriously doubted that was what he actually wanted. Oh, dear. He’d fallen in love with Stella again, and she’d interfered just like Tom said, contributing to her grandson being miserable.
She took a step forward. “You shouldn’t—”
“Please stop telling me what I should and shouldn’t do. Seriously.”
She lifted her chin. “That’s fair. I’ll—” What could she do but follow his request? “I’ll leave you then.”
“Join the crowd,” he muttered.
“Oh—” She stopped herself this time. No. She needed to fix what she’d done. And pushing him while he was so devastated wasn’t going to help with that.
Another man could help, though. The one person who might get through to the woman Ryan clearly loved.
It took her an hour, but she tracked down Tom Reid at the hardware store. He was examining a display of screws, nails and other fasteners.
“Screwed,” she said. “Theme of the day.”
Tom eyed her with interest and a measure of concern.
“What’s wrong, Gertie?”
She repeated what Georgie had told her, and the mood Ryan was in. “How’s Stella?”
“Haven’t seen her. Maggie told me that something had gone on at the barn, but I missed the action.”
“We need to help them solve their problems, Thomas.”
Tom chuckled and tapped the carpenter’s square in his hand against his other palm. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do all along, Gertie. You’re the one who’s been at cross-purposes.”
Her cheeks went hot. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“Why?”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m not so set in my ways that I can’t admit I’m wrong. And seeing my grandson hurting so badly... I can’t take it. I’ve wanted him to feel rooted, to have a place. He never had that when he was younger, no matter how hard I tried. And he’s come into it now. But I think...” She squeezed her eyes shut, her throat tightening and making it hard to finish.
Tom waited patiently. He took one of her hands and squeezed. And she didn’t pull away. She hadn’t held hands with anyone in over a decade—not with a man she found attractive, anyway. So innocent, unremarkable, and yet the thrill of it took her breath away.
She gathered her courage. “I think his place is with Stella. No matter where she is. The love they have now could be different than the one they shared in the past.”
Tom screwed up his mouth in thought and appeared to take a steadying breath of his own. “Just like love between us wouldn’t have to look like your marriage?”
Her mouth dropped open. Love? Nonsense.
Or a damn good idea.
“What do you mean, ‘like my marriage’?” she asked, voice shaking.
He tightened his grip on her hand. “I mean I’m not looking for a wife to run my household, Gertrude. I know enough about you and Reg to know that your happiness wasn’t his top priority. But that’s not how I like to approach things. I want a companion to share adventures with. And the mundane, too. I’d love you, if you let me.”
She put a hand to her mouth, unable to reply.
“Gertie Rafferty, speechless?” he teased. “I must be doing something right.”
“Oh, you are,” she said, almost gushing.
He tugged her a little closer. Her shoes squeaked on the linoleum as she came close enough to him to smell the laundry detergent on his shirt and his faint, masculine cologne. “I’ll talk to Stella, provided she’ll hear me out. But first, I want you to agree to that date.”
“Dinner? Now? I—I’d love to.” She glanced around, finally registering that he’d declared his love in the middle of the hardware store. “We’ll be the talk of the town for days.”
“The tables have turned, my dear.”
The sweet nickname warmed her to her very center. Lordy, when was the last time that happened? “I think we should give them something more interesting to talk about, don’t you?”
“Such as...”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
But she did.
Tilting her face to his, she slid a hand along his smooth cheek and pulled his lips to hers. He tasted of mint and promises, and the heat in his eyes and the smile he gave her once they broke apart hinted at more.
“Take me for dinner,” she said. “And then we’ll figure out how to make sure our grandchildren end up as happy as you just made me.”
Chapter Sixteen
The sun had barely risen the next morning, and Stella was up, jamming clothes into her suitcase. No time for folding. She, Lach and Maggie were planning on talking next steps for the SAR dog school over breakfast, and then she’d be off to Bozeman to fly back home to New York.
But this is home.
The words echoed in her chest like she was standing in a deep crevice.
Was Sutter Creek home?
A knock sounded on the door. “Stella, love?”
“Come in, Gramps.” She buried two pairs of shoes that had gone unused on her visit, because who wore heels in Sutter Creek when it was January and the main activities were drywalling and holing up in a cabin? She gave her grandfather a wobbly smile. “I need to finish packing before Maggie, Lach and I hash out what they need me to do next for the business.”
Gramps huffed and sank on the edge of the bed, posture still military-straight. “Well, at least you’re tying up some loose ends before you leave.”
She shot him a warning look. “I’ve been their biggest supporter through all this.”
“Financially,” he said.
“That’s what they needed!”
“Nothing wrong with being the banker and a sister, honey. You can do both. Just like you could balance your work and your love life.”
She sighed. “You say that like it would be easy.”
“Come now,” he chided. “No one ever promised anything would be easy. You’ve never gone the easy route, and I’d never suggest that you do. But even when you’re on the hard road—the one where the rewards are so damn worth it—there’s more than one turn you can take. New York suited what you needed—adventure, challenge, to be seen—when you were fresh out of school. But is that still what you need?”
“I don’t need to be barefoot and pregnant if that’s what you mean. I narrowly avoided that.”
He waved a hand. “That’s not what I meant. Not that there would be anything wrong with you wanting a family.”
“Now, no, but having a kid wasn’t the right path for me at eighteen. And I still need all those things that I did when I was younger. Regardless of whether someone is a parent, who doesn’t want adventures? And to be challenged? To matter?”
“Maybe you could find that elsewhere, though. Here, even.”
She lifted an eyebrow as she stuffed her sweaters into her suitcase. “How? Apply to work at AlpinePeaks, like Emma Halloran suggested? Anything I could do in Sutter Creek is miles from what I do now, Gramps.”
Except for what I’ve already been doing through financing Lachlan’s business...
He shrugged. “Something to consider, given how unhappy you were when you got here.”
Her back prickled. “Not true. I mean... I’m not enjoying being ostracized by my colleagues. But the work didn’t make me unhappy.”
“Not making you unhappy sounds like a pretty crappy metric, Stella. There’s filling your professional portfolio and filling your soul. And there’s nothing wrong with some of that fulfillment coming from spending time with another person. Sharing love and moments and dreams.” A secret smile crossed his face.
“What’s that expression for?”
“Let’s just say I convinced another woman to open up yesterday. And I’d really like to have a two-and-oh record this weekend by getting through to you, as well.”
“Is that why you weren’t around last night? You were off courting some lucky woman?” He looked so damn pleased with himself, and something panged in her chest. Jealousy? Nah.
Um, try again.
Fine, she was jealous of her grandfather.
And her sister with Asher, and Lachlan with Marisol. And if she was being totally honest with herself, yeah, part of her yearned for a little peanut like Laura...
His mouth quirked. “I figure if I keep Gertie busy, she’ll leave you and Ryan alone.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re dating Gertie to keep her out of my business?”
“No,” he said, suddenly serious. “I’m dating Gertie because she’s a hell of a woman and I enjoy her company.”
The pang mushroomed into a full-on green monster. “I’m happy for you, Gramps. And I’m sorry to ruin your lucky relationship streak, but I don’t see how I can find a compromise that doesn’t hurt either Ryan or me.”
He winked and strolled toward the door. “Day’s not over yet. You could still come to your senses.”
His advice na
gged at her until the moment she sat down at the table in the clinic staff room, waiting for Maggie and Lachlan to arrive.
Ugh, why hadn’t she asked for a location change? Not twenty-four hours before, she’d been on the sofa in the corner, moaning Ryan’s name and going wild under him. And it was absolutely impossible not to let herself get consumed by the memory, by wanting more of him every day of her life.
She busied herself making three lattes with the deluxe Italian espresso maker sitting on the counter. Stella hadn’t noticed the fancy appliance yesterday. She’d been too busy hungrily cataloging every angle and plane of Ryan’s body.
Footsteps approached, and a chair scraped at the table. Stella glanced back to see Maggie settling in at the round, thrift-store special. A stretchy, turquoise band held her hair off her face. She wore yoga pants, a thin hoodie with thumb holes and the smile of a woman who’d been woken up by a loving partner in the mood for mutual enjoyment.
I could have had that, too. But she couldn’t let Ryan throw away his life here. He wouldn’t be happy in New York. She wasn’t happy in—
She shook off the thought. “Your furniture’s at odds with your coffee maker, Mags,” she commented, plunking a froth-topped drink in front of her sister.
“Some things are worth the investment,” Maggie said casually.
But the comment smacked Stella across the face. It was too similar to her grandfather’s observations to ignore.
She resisted another glance at the love seat, another slip back to Ryan’s hands on her skin, playing her, pleasuring her.
Task at hand. She smoothed her cashmere sweater and sat at the table across from her sister.
Lachlan strolled in, carrying a paper bag with the Peak Beans logo on it. He pulled a stack of napkins from his cargo pants, then dropped a card-stock folder in front of Stella, put the bag on the table and unzipped his fleece jacket.
“For your perusal, financial oracle,” he said. “Please tell me we’re going to be okay. That the insurance money will cover what we need so that I can resume my programming and make enough to increase the scope of what we do here.”
