by Cindi Madsen
“Pardon me if I didn’t line my pockets with my daddy’s money first. Some of us have to work for a living.”
That stung, a dozen needles right to her chest. The whole point of this was to not be tied to Chichi’s money or the marionette strings that came with it. In fact, if he knew she was here, he’d tell her to stop playing around and focus on her job. Another reason to stay and get what she wanted. She couldn’t be a puppet anymore. The money she’d bid was all hers, savings from three years of working for Sakata Real Estate. She wished it were more, but the first year she hadn’t been thinking long-term. Honestly, she’d been thinking house-decorating stuff! Clothes! Shoes!
But she’d turned it around when she realized that a fancy townhouse and wardrobe wasn’t making her the kind of deep-down happy she craved and she needed a long-term plan to get what she truly wanted.
“Looks like we’re ready to get started,” Patsy Higgins said. “Thank you both for coming on such short notice. We figured you’d want to hear this right away, and Quinn, we know you’re in town for your sister’s wedding, which gave us a small window to work with. The committee has gone the rounds over the Mountain Ridge property. We see advantages in having a bed and breakfast where tourists can bring their entire families to come and enjoy our little town…”
Quinn straightened, pride and determination buoying her. She knew she could accomplish that better than Heath.
“…but we also see the benefit and tourist draw of a hunting lodge.”
“A hunting lodge?” It burst out of Quinn, the way her thoughts tended to. She spun to Heath. “You want to turn my beautiful bed and breakfast into a freaking hunting lodge? Over my dead body.”
A gavel banged—what was this, court? The committee’s faces ranged from annoyed to angry to bored.
“Miss Sakata,” Patsy Higgins said, pointing the gavel she was wielding at Quinn. “If you’ll kindly keep from interrupting…”
Heath chuckled under his breath, and Quinn crossed her arms as tightly as she could to keep from smacking him. “Of course. Sorry. I just didn’t realize there was a chance Mountain Ridge Bed and Breakfast would be anything but what it was historically built for.”
Okay, adding the “historically” was a bit of a jerk move, but it was also accurate.
“Do you know how much tourism hunting brings to Hope Springs?” Mack Gardner, one of the men on the committee, asked. “People come from all over to hunt game here.”
“The lodge would be for more than hunting, too,” Heath said. “Snowmobiling, motorcycle rides, tours of the rivers, lakes, and mountain ranges. It’d be a more authentic Wyoming experience.”
“Yes, yes,” Patsy Higgins said. “We’ve read the proposals from both of you. If you’ll listen, we’ll let you know what we’ve decided.”
Pressure built within Quinn, hotter and hotter, seeking an escape. If she were a teakettle, she’d be whistling.
“Neither one of you has lived here for several years, which worries us.”
Quinn opened her mouth to argue and then clamped it closed, her teeth clicking shut. She glanced at Heath and found him looking back at her. Apprehension showed in his features as well—he wanted this badly, too, she could tell.
Taking it from someone only mildly interested would be so much easier.
“With Frontier Days coming up, you both have the perfect opportunity to show us how much you’re willing to dedicate to this town. The Morris family has been dealing with medical issues, which means we’re shorthanded this year. There are floats to finish and the parade to put on, as well as the barbecue and other town festivities. We plan on making our decision at the end of the festival, when we’ve seen how well you work with the committee and what you’re willing to do for the town.”
“But…” Quinn’s stomach bottomed out. “I could help with anything during the festival, but my office is in Cheyenne. I’m not sure I could be here during the week to build floats.”
Patsy Higgins’s face grew grim, as did the faces of the rest of the committee members. She nodded tightly. “I see.”
“I’m here,” Heath said. “I’ll clear my afternoons and evenings and help with whatever you need.”
Patsy Higgins brightened, and once again, everyone else followed her lead, as if their expressions worked as one. “That’s so good to hear, Heath. Pleasantly unexpected, truly.”
Quinn was pretty sure a muscle in his jaw tightened, but he held the plastered-on smile. Her bed and breakfast, with its gourmet meals, never-ending stream of happy couples and families, and fun activity-filled days, along with the childhood memories it held, started to drift away, like a cloud she’d caught hold of only to find nothing substantial to grip.
“I might need a few days,” Quinn said, “but I’ll find a way to help. I’ll take leave from my work, and you can count on me, too.”
The grin on Patsy Higgins’s face widened—clearly she’d just gotten everything she wanted. “Excellent. Quinn, we’ll give you a few days, but with the celebration only a month away, we must get on this. Meet at the bus garage Friday evening and we’ll dole out assignments. Until then, this meeting is adjourned.”
As she and Heath walked toward the exit, Quinn muttered under her breath, mimicking his earlier statement. “I’ll clear my afternoons and evenings and help with whatever you need.” Of course he was free. Just her luck.
“Did you say something?”
“I have a full-time job in Cheyenne. I can’t just ignore everything and be here. It’s so unfair.”
“Not my problem.”
“How about how much you travel with Sadie? How do you even think you’re going to run this, this”—she forced the words out, the image of rough wooden walls and floors, along with orange vests, camping gear, and muddy boots strewn about, making her wrinkle her nose—“hunting lodge, while being on the road?”
Heath pushed out one of the large double doors of town hall and held it open for her. “Hunting season is the band’s slow period, and I plan on having help. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got it under control.”
She stepped past him, onto the large concrete step in front of the tan brick building, and then spun to face him as the door closed with a loud clang. “I don’t care how much you think you’ve got it under control. There’s no way I’m letting you turn my classy bed and breakfast into a lodge with animal heads and antlers tacked on the wall so that a bunch of guys can scratch their balls and drink beer by a fire while congratulating one another over an archaic so-called sport.”
“Big surprise. You’re a snob. Didn’t see that one coming,” he deadpanned.
“A snob?” All her life people had accused her of that. Said things about how her family was rich so of course she didn’t understand. That it must be nice to buy anything she wanted. That she was spoiled. Stuck-up.
Sticks and stones. They didn’t realize how suffocating it was to live under a roof where she was never allowed to go out and where her attitude—which she thought of more as her personality—was a problem. Where she’d been grounded more than not. And in spite of counting the days to get away from it all, after college, she’d given in to pressure and joined the family business, foolishly thinking that being a grown-up would mean things would be different. Now the suffocating happened at work and she was counting down the days again, scared of dishonoring her family but even more scared she’d never break free. Trying to explain that to the jerk in front of her would be a waste of breath, though, so she didn’t bother.
Right as she was about to make a dramatic break for her car, Heath leaned in, a challenge glinting in his eyes. “And as for the letting me build my hunting lodge, go ahead and try to stop me. If you need me, I’ll be volunteering for float duty.”
…
Heath couldn’t believe he was living in his childhood house again. When he’d left at eighteen, he hadn’t even cast a last glance at the place, glad to be rid of it. Coming back certainly hadn’t ignited any fuzzy feelings. His pride nea
rly stopped him from moving back in with Dad, but he needed every last cent for Mountain Ridge.
As he parked his truck in front of the run-down three-bedroom bungalow, he took a fortifying breath. When it came to Dad, Heath never knew if he’d get drunk and disorderly or the jokester or just plain mean. It depended how many drinks in he was, and if he’d pulled out the hard stuff.
Pocketing his keys, because Dad never bothered locking the door, Heath walked up the cracked sidewalk overgrown with weeds and then stepped inside the cluttered house. At first he’d tried to straighten up, but Dad seemed to take offense to that, so now he simply left the bottles and cans alone. Not to mention he didn’t understand the “organizing system,” also known as the way Dad stacked hunting and gun magazines going back years in piles around the room. Target practice, fishing, and hunting trips were some of the few good memories he had with Dad. Especially during the earlier years, when Dad had had something to live for and at least tried to control how much he drank.
But then Dad had injured himself on the job—an accident with a tractor that’d nearly torn his arm off. After that, his drinking spiraled out of control, Mom left, and subsequently, he got fired from the job that’d left him injured. Instead of trying again, he’d decided to collect disability and call it good. It was almost enough to feed and clothe his kids. Almost.
As soon as Cam was old enough to drive, he and Heath would escape to the mountains as often as possible, taking every opportunity they could to be away from the house. It also gave them the chance to catch enough fish and game to keep the freezer well stocked.
Eventually Dad had sort of recovered and bought the garage with a loan from the bank he probably still owed a ton on, considering that before Heath came back to town, the hours it’d been open were hardly regular or enough to sustain a business.
Dad glanced up at him and patted the threadbare tan couch he’d never bothered replacing, even though it’d been a hand-me-down when he and Mom had gotten married. Who knew how many years of alcohol had been spilled on it. “Sit. Watch the game.”
Heath looked from the TV to the mitt on the coffee table. “Did Ollie’s mom come pick him up?” If she had, Heath would have to run the mitt over—the kid would need it tomorrow.
“No, she wanted to go out tonight. Said it was my turn to watch him. He’s in the back room playing video games. It’s all kids do these days, apparently.”
“I’m going to check on him.” Dad shrugged and turned up the volume on the TV.
Heath opened the door to Cam’s old room. In the middle of stacked battered furniture and boxes containing clothes Cam hadn’t worn in years sat a bed. Ollie’s blond head stuck out against the navy bedspread. Trigger lay next to him but perked up his ears when Heath stepped inside.
Within seconds, his blue heeler puppy jumped off the bed and bounced around at his feet. Heath bent down and petted his gray-and-tan coat. One spot of black circled his left eye, and his opposite ear matched it. When Heath had come across a family selling the blue heeler puppies a couple of weekends ago, he’d known he wanted this one. Someday, he was going to be a great hunting dog.
He scooped up Trigger and scratched behind his ears as he plunked down next to Ollie, who had his gaze glued to the small TV on the dresser. “Get that guy in the background or you’re dead.”
A grin spread across Ollie’s face when he fired with his controller and the other guy went down. “Yes,” he said, pumping his fist as the screen announced his team had won. “I’m just like Cam now, huh?”
“Pretty close,” Heath said. While Ollie had barely met Cam during his last leave, he already admired him. The kid was obsessed with all things army and marines.
Ollie flung aside the controller and glanced around. “When Cam gets out of the army, where am I gonna sleep when I stay the night? He’ll need his room back.”
“By the time Cam gets out, he’ll have somewhere else to sleep.” Heath almost told Oliver that he could have a bedroom in the lodge, too, but the kid had enough people who made promises they couldn’t keep. He knew he couldn’t take care of a kid full-time, but he’d make sure Ollie had a place to come play when both of his parents were pointing fingers and shoving the kid back and forth like a toy they’d tired of playing with.
His thoughts turned to the two bikes he was working on, the three gigs he and Dixie Rush had booked, the hours he needed to put in at the station, and on top of all that, he now got to squeeze in float building. He didn’t have the first clue about how to build a float, but he’d do the dance.
For just a moment, Heath dropped his internal defenses and let Quinn’s image pop into his mind. When he’d seen her standing there in the town hall, his heart had thumped hard in his chest. It’d been a long time since he’d seen a girl and lost the ability to speak.
But then she’d spoken, and it was clear she thought as little of him as her father had. He’d nearly been late because of the guy, hadn’t charged him, and he’d still looked at Heath like a spot that needed scrubbed out.
After his flirtatious interaction with Quinn at the church, he’d been disappointed to see she felt the same. Still, something about the flash of anger and the way she’d practically stomped her foot over the committee’s decision made a dart of desire shoot through his system.
The girl was damn cute, he’d give her that.
But that was all he was going to give her.
Chapter Four
Quinn tried not to stare at Heath as Dixie Rush set up onstage for the reception. A long-sleeved white button-down covered his tattoos, although a hint of them showed through. There was no covering up the earrings, and he hadn’t bothered shaving, something she knew her parents would notice and shake their heads over—once Sadie sang, though, they’d forget their complaints.
The postwedding glow must be responsible for making her more wistful than bitter as she took him in, her joy over her little sister’s happiness combating the irritation from last night. The ceremony had been short and sweet, simple yet beautiful, and filled with the townspeople who’d shaped a big part of their lives—everything Maya had wanted to achieve by having it in Hope Springs.
Even better, Quinn had managed to avoid blurting out any swearwords to ruin the mood. The preacher had kept giving her worried looks, each one adding more pressure and paranoia she’d somehow screw it up. But vows were exchanged, tears shed, and now Maya was Mrs. Maya Sakata Rutherford.
People were still over by the chapel congratulating the couple, but Haha had rushed Quinn and the rest of their family over to make sure everything was perfect for the reception.
I’m simply doing my job, Quinn thought as she continued to stare at the stage. Making sure Heath looks perfect—er, the band looks perfect.
When he picked up his guitar, her knees wobbled. As if he needed anything to make him hotter. She’d always chosen her crushes well, and the residual nervousness of seeing him in the school halls hit her. Of that day she’d finally approached him, thinking she’d throw out a flirty line, only to stand and blink at him.
This is stupid. I’m not in high school anymore, and last night he became nothing more than the competition. Infuriating competition who wants to replace my B and B with a hunting lodge, at that.
And I have a boyfriend, she reminded herself as an afterthought.
But looking was free—as long as he didn’t catch her.
“Can you fix that string of lights over there?” Haha pointed. “See how it’s sagging? It looks awful!”
“Yes, Haha,” Quinn said. The string of lights brought her closer to the band. Not that she noticed the mere fifteen feet or that Heath glanced her way. Or that he looked away so quickly.
Clearly he knows I’m not someone to mess with. She pulled a chair toward the sagging strand of lights, hiked up the skirt of her red dress, and balanced, heels and all, on the seat. As she wiggled the lights and the accompanying multicolored paper cranes into place, she prayed she wouldn’t topple off the chair and break h
er neck. With Heath most likely watching, that’d be especially embarrassing.
Enough caring what he thinks. Focus on how he called me squirt. Told me I was a snob. Heat rose up and uncurled in her chest. Yes, focus on the anger. On how I’m going to crush him before he can take away my dream.
The bride and groom arrived as she was replacing the chair at the table she’d stolen it from, both grinning and glowing. Wedding guests trailed after them, the nearly empty reception area slowly filling with people.
Arms wound around her waist, and then she was pulled back against a firm body. A check over her shoulder confirmed it was Grayson. He spun her around and kissed her, and she closed her eyes and tried to let it take away the tension she’d felt since last night’s nondecision from the town committee.
Grayson’s lips moved next to her ear. “So, I was thinking we sneak away to my hotel room as soon as possible.”
Quinn’s shoulders stiffened. “Oh, yeah?”
He wrapped his arms tighter around her and kissed her neck. “Come on, Quinn. It’s been six months.”
“And…?” She knew what he was getting at, but time wasn’t the issue. “You know my stance, Grayson. I made it clear that it’s important to me.”
“Maya and Steven didn’t wait till the wedding, you know.”
Every muscle in her body tensed. How did he know? And if he was telling the truth, why wouldn’t Maya have told her? They’d always talked about how hard it was to find a guy willing to wait and how she’d been so happy that Steven was. “Well, I’m sure they at least waited until they were engaged…”
“You’re saying either I ask you to marry me or it’s not happening?” The cold edge of his words dug at her.
She pushed him back. “I’m not asking for that. I don’t even want to get married right now. I’m just reminding you that I told you where I stood, and that hasn’t changed.”
Frustration wafted off him. Well, he wasn’t the only one dealing with that feeling, which meant she had to work twice as hard to remain calm. Over the years, this same fight had escalated to yelling and nasty words between her and her boyfriend at the time. With their families now joined together—and all only a few yards away—discretion was key.
