Logan didn’t seem to notice. “Guess I should head back to the airport. We’ve got a team meeting tonight.” He stood and took her hand, helped her up. “Take care of yourself. No more horseback riding. Got it?”
She hugged him. “Got it.”
He let her go and sauntered out the door.
As she watched him walk away, a pang of loss stabbed her, but there was also a release—a glimpse of freedom. The only way to figure out what she wanted, where she belonged, was to let go of the things that didn’t make her feel alive.
Then she had to be brave enough to embrace the things that did.
Chapter Twelve
Bryce swung the ax high enough to obscure the royal blue sky. Early morning sunlight glinted off the blade. Gritting his teeth, he slammed it down. The contact made a clean cut straight through the log and released the scent of wet wood into the air.
Sweat poured from his face, even though the temperature couldn’t have been more than seventy.
He flung the split logs onto the pile. It’d grown as tall as a bale of hay. After the scene at the hospital, he’d hit the ground chopping. At this rate, he’d have enough firewood to last him three winters.
The thermal shirt he’d pulled on earlier clung to him. He peeled it off and threw it on the ground. For an hour and a half he’d been chopping wood, but the tension hadn’t even begun to work itself out of his shoulders, his neck. After what had happened with Avery, he could’ve chopped for a week and still not have worked out the frustration.
But he could try.
He positioned another innocent log on the chopping block and swung.
Crack! There was something satisfying about that sound, clean and ear-splitting.
Sweat dripped into his eyes. He swiped an arm across his forehead. He hated to admit it, but having Avery around brought back memories of the ranch during a different time. A time when guests had lounged at the breakfast table listening to Mom’s wildly spun stories, that seemed to inflate with each telling. Mom had been glowing with happiness the night before when she’d made them dinner. Like she was finally back to doing what she was born to do—serving whoever walked through her door.
Avery had brought life into the place. Warmth.
It still smoldered in his chest, just like it had when he’d kissed her.
He brought the ax down again, harder this time. The split logs fell to the ground.
Didn’t matter, really. Couldn’t matter.
She was about to come back and pack up her stuff, then disappear from his life. And good riddance. She’d distracted him, but it was time to refocus. He still had the ranch, at least for now, and he wouldn’t let it go. He’d fight anyone, everyone, who tried to take it away from him. Including the King family. Which was why he’d called in the big guns.
A dust cloud rose down the road. He balanced the blade of the ax on the ground and watched a black Jeep Wrangler roll into the driveway, the images of aspen and pine trees reflected in the shiny paint.
The Jeep jerked to a stop just down the hill. Grinning, he leaned the ax against the chopping block. Right on time.
Ben Noble catapulted himself over the side of the Jeep Dukes of Hazzard-style, and he looked the part, complete with the cowboy boots and those snug jeans Bryce had been giving him shit about since they’d met in college.
“Well, look who it is,” he called as he pulled on his shirt.
“Walker! How’s it goin’?” Ben strode up the hill and Bryce met him halfway.
“Good to see you.” He whacked his old frat buddy on the shoulder. “I feel honored.” He was only half kidding. Benjamin Hunter Noble III was in high demand these days. He hailed from the infamous Noble dynasty down in Texas. Most of his male relatives had been faithful servants of the U.S. government at one time or another and last he’d heard, Ben was following suit. Pursuing the same senatorial seat his father’d once held. The Nobles were an oil and cattle ranch family, about as rich as Edward King, but Bryce didn’t care about the money because Ben was the most down-to-earth guy he’d ever met, easygoing and funny as hell.
“You should feel honored.” Ben cocked a grin. “When you called, I was just headin’ out. Caught me just in time.”
He wasn’t surprised. Ben never stayed in the same place too long. When he’d heard he was in town this week checking out some land for his grandfather, Bryce had gotten an idea. But there was no reason to rush the discussion. “How about a drink? Mom made a fresh batch of sweet tea yesterday.” A year ago, he would’ve offered him a beer, but these days, tea was the best he could do. He still couldn’t even watch someone drink a beer without the craving taking over.
“Hell yeah,” Ben said, following him down the hill. “Your momma’s the only one in this town who knows how to make sweet tea. Trust me.”
They ambled across to the porch.
“So it’s been awhile.” Bryce held open the back kitchen door for Ben. The last time he’d seen him was at Ben Noble, Sr.’s funeral about six months ago. “How’re things? How’s your mom holding up?”
“You know her.” Ben waved him off. “She’s Gracie Hunter Noble. Nothing fazes her.”
He laughed. “What about you? How’re the campaign plans coming?”
“Good, as far as I know.” Ben pulled out a stool at the kitchen island. “My campaign manager is taking care of it.” Something in his voice dulled, but before Bryce could mention it, Ben pointed at the freshly baked pie sitting on the counter. “You expecting company or what?”
“Nah. You know Mom. She’s always ready.” She’d probably force him into another dinner with Avery tonight. Not that he wanted to talk about that. So he changed the subject. “How long are you in town?”
“About a week. Somehow I got elected to take care of some family business.” He grinned. “I figured it’d be the perfect opportunity to finally get my paragliding certification.”
Of course he did. Because climbing Mt. Rainer, skydiving in South America, and racing motorcycles in Spain wasn’t enough for him. And all that was just what he’d done in the last six months. That was one thing about Ben. He was always chasing some big adventure. “Glad you could make time to stop in.” Bryce poured them each a glass of tea, and yes, he was procrastinating about revealing the real reason he’d asked Noble to come.
“Yeah, well. All I’ve been doin’ is research.” Ben raised his glass and took a gulp. “Granddad’s got this harebrained idea that he wants to franchise the ranch.”
“What do you think?” he asked, even though he could read the answer in Ben’s skeptical expression.
“I don’t know. Hell, I’d love to live in Aspen. Who wouldn’t? But starting a new operation? Too much work. You want my opinion, I think he’s bored.”
It hit Bryce like a punch to the gut. What would that be like? To have so much money you’re bored?
“Hey, after I check out the land, I’m headed up the mountain for my first jump.” Ben took another sip. “You in?”
“Nah. I can’t take that on right now.” Too much to deal with at the ranch. Besides that, he didn’t care much for paragliding. He preferred the feeling of both feet on the ground. “I’ve got a crisis to take care of. Can’t afford to pay someone to teach me how to jump off a cliff.”
Ben took the jab in stride. “What’s up, Walker? What’s the crisis?”
He preferred not to hang his dirty laundry out there for everyone to see, but Ben would get it. His ranch in Texas had been in the family since the late 1800s. He knew the value of family, the value of keeping those connections with your history. He heaved a deep breath. There was no pretty way to spin it. “You know the King family?”
“Sure. I’ve heard of Edward King. Who hasn’t?”
“He’s after my ranch,” Bryce said. The words lit a fuse on his temper. “He sent his daughter out here to make me an offer.”
“You turned ’em down, right?” Ben asked. “This is your family’s place. You can’t let it go.”
“Yeah. I turned him down. Not that it’ll stop him.” It wouldn’t stop Avery, either. He had a feeling the forbidden fruit didn’t fall too far from the tree.
“Sure it’ll stop him. Not like he can take it from you.”
“Well…” Bryce hesitated, trying to find the right words. This was harder than he’d thought it would be. “Things have been tough. I’m way behind on the mortgage.”
“Shit, Walker. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because he’d thought he could take care of it. And he would. He’d find a way. But he might not be able to do it alone. “I’ve been meeting with banks, trying to get a loan, but so far no one’s interested.”
Ben glanced around the kitchen with that honed, businesslike glare. “I thought your grandparents paid the place off.”
Yeah. They did once. But people who traveled to Aspen had high expectations. “They took out a new loan about fifteen years ago. Had to dig a new well, put in a new septic. Then they did some remodeling, bought new furniture.” Not that it had helped business. “After that the economy tanked.” Truth was, it’d been tanking for a long time. Especially with all the high-end resorts taking over. So they’d taken out a few more loans, which left him with a hefty mortgage. “Most people who come to Aspen like to drop a grand on one night in a five-star hotel.”
“How much are we talking?” Ben asked before draining the rest of his tea.
“I don’t know.” Too much.
“Ballpark it for me.”
His face heated. “We’re a good five million in the red. Soon to be more.” If none of the loan applications came through.
His friend nodded with a carefree wave, as if that was pocket change. Which, for the Nobles, it probably was.
“I might be able to help you out.”
“Nope.” He sipped his own tea. “That’s not why I asked you here. I don’t want you to give me the money.” He’d never take money from Ben. Too messy. “I just wondered if you had any contacts, potential investors.”
“Sure,” Ben said without a pause. “I’ll ask around. Land in Aspen is at a premium. It’s a good investment. I’m sure I can drum up some interest.”
“The Notice of Election and Demand gave me a hundred and twenty days to catch up.” Before the bank earned the right to auction off his life. His arms itched to go outside and split another log in half. “That’ll be up next week.”
“That’s not gonna happen, Walker,” Ben said in that laid-back twang. “Banks take forever with that kind of stuff. Trust me. You’ve got time.”
Maybe so, but he didn’t want to chance it. “Let me know what you hear.”
“I’m on it,” his friend assured him, flicking a glance at his watch. “I should head out. Let’s hang while I’m in town. We can grab dinner or somethin’.”
“Sure. Let me know what works.” Bryce followed him outside and headed straight for the log pile.
Ben opened the Jeep door. “I’ll make some calls tonight, let you know what I hear.”
“Thanks man,” he called, then lined up another log.
Watching Ben drive away, he snatched up the ax and raised it high in the air. This time his arms were lighter, his shoulders looser. He brought the blade down hard enough to split the log in two on the first shot. With ease, he tossed the halves onto the growing pile and welcomed the first hint of relief he’d felt in years.
At least if everything else fell through, he had options, an even playing field with the Kings.
Now it was two against two.
*
“Let me get this straight,” Dad said for about the hundredth time in a half hour. “You went riding with Mr. Walker so you could talk to him?”
Avery sighed and turned the page in the travel magazine Bryce had brought her. So thoughtful. She hadn’t pegged him for the thoughtful type, but then again, Bryce Walker seemed full of surprises.
“I don’t understand.” That’d been another of Dad’s favorite phrases during the last hour. He’d started to sound like a skipping CD. He’d probably said it ten times alone when she’d told him she and Logan were just going to be friends. Lucky Logan. He’d left over an hour ago and was on his way back to Chicago, while she was stuck here with Mr. 20 Questions.
“I thought a horseback ride would give me a chance to get to know him.” She let that sink in while she lazily scanned an article on Belize, thinking about how nice Mr. Walker would look in a pair of swimming trunks.
“Why would you want to get to know him?”
Avery glanced at the door. How hard was it to draft up discharge papers anyway? Dr. Carlson had promised she’d be out of there “as soon as possible.”
“There’s no reason to get to know him.” Dad squeezed his eyes shut and probably did that silent countdown his therapist had recommended for restraining his temper. “I mean, you had one job, Avery. Get him to sign the contract. You know how much this means to me.”
She tossed the magazine aside and looked at Dad. His eyes had dulled like they did every time he thought of Mom. Shoulders slumping with defeat, she reached across and patted his forearm. “I do. I know how much this means to you.” She’d always known. “But she wouldn’t blame you for what happened.” She was sick. He hadn’t made her sick. Why couldn’t he believe that?
He looked down, that grieved expression hollowing his cheeks. “Being here…I just see her everywhere. We were happy here. She was happy here. Don’t you remember?”
“I remember.” She sighed, because she’d never forget that trip. She’d never forget the way Mom had gasped at every vista, how she’d told them to pause while she dug out the camera, yet again. They’d taken over three hundred pictures that week, and in every one of them, Mom’s radiant smile had outshined them both.
“This is how we can honor her memory, Aves,” Dad proclaimed in his impassioned monologue tone, which was normally reserved for the board of trustees. “This is how she can live on.”
Tightening her lips, she held back the words she wanted to say. What was it with men? Always having to do something, to fix things in some external realm so they never had to deal with their real feelings? Mom lived on in so many other ways. But she’d tried reminding him of that for years and it had gotten her nowhere. Maybe if Dad understood the situation, he’d see things differently. “Bryce lost his wife,” she told him. “He’s a widower. He feels like the ranch is all he has left of Yvonne and his family.”
“I see.” Dad’s head slanted with a thoughtful and somewhat impressed look.
That’s right. She pretty much had Bryce figured out, and truth be told, he wasn’t that different from the man sitting across from her. In his flawed thinking, Dad seemed to believe this resort would right every wrong, release him from the guilt he carried. It was his offering, and no matter how many times she tried to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that Mom had known he loved her, he couldn’t accept it.
She thought back to both times Bryce had kissed her. He’d apologized. I’m sorry. But he wasn’t apologizing to her. He was apologizing to his dead wife. Which meant, she couldn’t let him kiss her again. Because the more he did that, the more she forgot he was still in love with another woman. And she couldn’t afford to forget that.
Bryce couldn’t give her more. Just like her father had never been able to give himself to anyone but Mom. He needed the resort the way Bryce needed a new start. And she was in a position to help them both.
But she had to put it in a way Dad would understand. “Bryce needs someone to help him see that he can move on. I was trying to be a friend. A good listener. You know, show him that I actually cared about him, not his land?” He ought to try it sometime instead of steamrolling people. Most of the time empathy got much better results.
“I misjudged you, Avery,” her father said, a hint of a smile edging into his mouth. “Walker likes you. It’s perfect.”
“Oh…” It came out in a whoosh. “No.” How could he have possibly misunderstood what she meant? “No, he doesn’
t like me.” It wasn’t like Dad thought. She wasn’t trying to seduce the man on purpose!
“The hell he doesn’t.” He clapped her on the back. “Sorry I misunderstood the situation.”
Sorry? Oh, boy. Oh, no. Her stomach churned. “Are you kidding me? I wasn’t trying to manipulate him.”
“Of course not.” Dad stood. “But we can use this to our advantage. It might be our only shot.”
“Use it?” She stood, too, and fought a building urge to shake the man’s shoulders until he realized how callous he sounded.
“Yes. Use it. You know, you can pretend to like him, too. Then get him to sign the contract. You are staying at the ranch, after all. It shouldn’t be hard.”
“No. No way.” That wasn’t how she worked. She could get Bryce to sell, but she wouldn’t seduce him. That’s not what the kiss was about. “He’s a reasonable guy. I can talk him into it.” Without pretending to have feelings for him. She wouldn’t have to pretend. They were there. She just couldn’t use them. She had to forget about them so she could do what she did best: work.
“We’re in this together, Avery,” Dad said in the sad tone that never failed to get to her. “I need you to come through for me.”
Damn him.
For the thousandth time, she groped her memory for the image that bound Dad and her together, the one that prompted her to keep trying, to remain loyal even when he asked too much of her. It had happened less than a week after Mom had died. She still sat by the window of their brownstone every evening, watching, praying that they’d made a mistake and her mom hadn’t really died, hoping she’d waltz through the door in one of her twirly skirts that swished so elegantly around her legs.
That night, she’d fallen asleep. She woke to her father lifting her into his arms. He rarely held her, never carried her to bed. That was her nanny’s job. But that night was different. He’d been drinking heavily. She recognized the overpowering scent of whiskey she’d always smelled when Mom held her close. When she’d looked into her daddy’s eyes, she saw his pain. He let her see it. “I’ll never leave you, Avery. I promise,” he whispered. And he hadn’t. He hadn’t left her. He hadn’t sent her away. Though plenty of her friends had attended boarding schools, Dad had always kept her close, at home. That was what tethered her to him, what entangled them in such a complicated relationship. In some ways her mom’s death broke them both, but somehow they seemed more whole together.
No Better Man Page 13
