by Jill Kemerer
“So you create your own?” An uncomfortable blend of admiration and envy swirled in Lexi’s core. Amy made time to do the things she loved. Lexi’s life had devolved into an endless checklist of necessary tasks for her company, ones that brought little happiness.
“No, no.” Amy waved. “I was sketching. I don’t have the credentials to design fabrics.”
“You sure could have fooled me.”
The coffeemaker beeped, and Amy set a plate of scones on the ottoman and handed Lexi a mug.
“How are you holding up?” Amy bit into a pastry, her big brown eyes watchful, compassionate.
Lexi held the cup between her hands, letting it warm her. “Some days are better than others.”
“That’s to be expected.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Lexi wanted to confide in her, but was it too much, too soon? “I’m tired of bitterness keeping me up at night.”
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. Losing your dad—I can’t imagine.”
“It’s not just the fact he’s gone.” Sitting here in Amy’s cozy world felt safe. “Earlier this week, I found out he knew he had cancer and didn’t tell me.”
“That’s terrible!”
“I know.” Lexi nodded. “And the sermon this morning is eating at me. ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled’? Like I can control it. If Daddy had told me he had cancer, I would have come home. He would have gotten treatment.”
Amy crossed one leg over the other as she sipped her coffee. “How long did he know?”
“About a month.”
“Hmm...”
“What?” Lexi broke off a piece of scone and popped it in her mouth. Buttery, slightly sweet—the ideal comfort food on a winter morning.
“Well, I totally get why you’re mad and all, but a month isn’t much. The cancer must have been aggressive. Even with treatment, he might not have had long to live.”
“I know. Chemo and radiation might not have cured him. But why didn’t he tell me?”
“I wish I had the answer. I know he loved you, and you can be sure he is in Heaven, in one of those rooms prepared just for him.”
I don’t want him in Heaven. I want him here.
She missed him. Plain and simple. And maybe that’s why she couldn’t let it go. She changed the subject, and soon they were laughing about old times. But underneath it all, dissatisfaction lingered. She’d lost her dad. She could very well lose her business. And she didn’t know what brought her joy anymore.
The one bright spot was Clint. She didn’t have to worry about losing the ranch, too. Not with him running it.
* * *
Clint sat in a red vinyl booth at Dottie’s Diner, the muffled conversations around him easing the raw edges of his solitude. Being around people, even when he wasn’t interacting with them, sometimes made him feel less lonely. Other times, it punctuated how alone he was. Today was a less lonely day. Lexi had a lot to do with it.
“Missed you at Thanksgiving, tiger.” Dottie filled his mug with coffee, then set the pot, nearly empty, on the table and slid into the booth opposite him. Her silver hair had poufy bangs in front and was twisted and clipped up in the back. She was a round, kind woman with a sassy tongue and a heart as wide-open as the state of Wyoming. “Every year I ask. Every year you refuse. I hate to think of you alone all the time. It’s not natural.”
Dottie and Big Bob hosted between thirty and fifty people every holiday. Clint had gone to Thanksgiving there once and had felt out of place. Making small talk with strangers was worse than dealing with an angry bull.
“I wasn’t alone.” He cautiously sipped the hot coffee, instantly regretting his words. The way her blue eyes started sparkling, he knew he would be forced to give an explanation.
“No?” Her voice climbed an octave. “Who were you with?”
He took another drink, scalding his tongue in the process. Dottie didn’t need to know who he’d been with.
“Don’t you go getting a burr under your saddle, Clint Romine. I’ve known you since you were thirteen. Now fess up.”
If she blew this out of proportion, he was standing up and leaving, rude or not.
“Lexi Harrington.” He quickly added, “She didn’t have anyone else.”
Her face cleared like the sky after a hard rain. “That’s kind of you. I worry about the girl. Losing her daddy and not having her mama around anymore. Plus she’s been stuck in the city for years. I don’t know how anyone can live like that. People everywhere.” She visibly shivered. “You takin’ good care of her, hon?”
Was he taking good care of Lexi? He could have asked her if she needed a ride to church this morning. Never mind he hadn’t known she was going. And if he had known? He still wouldn’t have asked. Decorating his Christmas tree with her had left him wound up tighter than a rope around a wayward calf.
He’d rarely been the center of someone’s attention, and Lexi treated him as if he mattered. Thanksgiving—cooking with her and decorating his tree—had shaken him, left him wanting more. More time with her, more of her attention. But if he gave in to the feeling?
She’d change her mind. Realize she’d been vulnerable and spending time with him had been a mistake. She didn’t understand he’d always been that Romine kid, a worthless brat. If he didn’t distance himself, she’d see the truth of who he was, and he didn’t want her to think less of him.
Dottie covered his hand with hers. “Where do you go in that handsome head of yours, tiger? You’ve been doing it ever since I’ve known you. It’s as if you retreat somewhere none of us can find you.”
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “I’m doing my best at the ranch. I’m still searching for winter feed to buy. If you hear of anyone willing to sell, give me a call.”
“I’ve been keeping my ears open, but all I hear is the same predicament you’re in. Ranchers are looking to buy feed, not sell. Big Bob is at home. Why don’t you stop by on your way back? Maybe he’s heard something different.”
He hoped Big Bob had a lead. If not, Clint would have to sell the calves as soon as possible, take the profit and hope it would be enough to keep the ranch going until next year without having to dip into its cash reserves. The calf sale would be another challenge. It had been years since he’d sold calves, and he’d never done the negotiating.
Why was he worrying? He wouldn’t be doing it alone. Jerry would help.
“Thanks, Dottie. I’ll do that.” He clung to the hope Big Bob had good news for him. He really didn’t want to let Lexi down, and not securing additional feed felt like a major failure. He wanted to be more than the worthless Romine kid for once.
* * *
Two hours later, Clint marched into the stables, ready to stomp something—anything—in frustration. His chances at feeding the calves along with the cows through the winter were dwindling by the second. Big Bob hadn’t known any locals with extra feed for sale. Jerry had no other names to call, and Clint’s friends didn’t have any leads, either. He’d contacted a ranch in Montana and left three messages, but they’d never returned his calls. It looked like he would have to stick to the original calf sale date in mid-December.
Although it was technically not his duty today, checking on the cattle would take his mind off the fact the ranch wouldn’t be buying the farm equipment RJ had wanted to purchase. Clint had a feeling RJ would have secured extra feed, one way or another.
He saddled up his horse and rode into the cold wind. To his surprise, Lexi was atop Nugget and heading toward the gate.
“Where you going?” Clint called.
Lexi expertly turned Nugget to face him. Her lips looked pinched, and even with her winter gear on, she seemed tense. “There’s an old cabin northeast of here. Thought I’d check on it.”
A cabin? He hadn’t seen any cabins. He hadn’t explored the property
in depth, though. “You’re not going by yourself, are you?”
“Why not?”
Why not? Because it’s Wyoming and snowstorms kick up at will. Because I don’t have the first clue where this cabin is, and I’ll worry about you getting dropped by your horse, attacked by an animal or worse, and I’ll have no way to find you. “It’s not wise to be alone in this weather. I don’t want you stranded.”
“Well, I can’t stay here right now. I’m going. I’ll be fine.” Under her stocking cap, her hair rippled like silky ribbons, framing her pretty—if agitated—face. Yep, she was ornery. Was she mad he hadn’t asked her to come to church with him earlier?
“I’ll come with you.”
“It’s not necessary,” she said in crisp syllables.
His first reaction was to retreat, to let her go on her merry way since she obviously didn’t want him around, but she’d been kind to him in a way that made him want to protect her. He couldn’t let her go off by herself, not if it would put her at risk.
“If you don’t want my company, I’ll have one of the other hands ride out with you. I don’t know where this cabin is, and cell reception is unreliable the farther out you get.”
“I’ll be fine. See the tree line? There’s a winding river beyond it, and trails lead up to the mountains. The cabin is half a mile up on the nearest trail.”
“You said trails. If it started to snow and you didn’t come back, how would I know which one to take?”
She looked at the ground, considering, and met his gaze. “If you feel compelled to come, then come. It will take a couple of hours, so if you have someplace else to be, then don’t bother.”
“I don’t have any place to be.” Clint urged his horse beside hers, and they settled into a steady pace. They rode toward the lodgepole pines in the distance. The clip-clop of the hooves and sound of the wind kept them company for half an hour. He glanced at her often. Why was she mad? Why did she need to get away? Her pink cheeks jutted high as she rode tall and proud. They reached the river she had mentioned, and she gestured for him to follow her. She and Nugget hugged the river until it bent sharply and changed direction.
“The trail is up ahead,” she announced, glowering.
“Did I do something to make you mad?”
She didn’t reply, and a trail wide enough for both horses appeared as if out of nowhere. With trees breaking the wind, the air felt warmer, and they slowed their pace.
“No,” she finally said. “It’s not you. I have all these dilemmas in my head, and I don’t know what to do with them. I thought getting out of the house, away from the million things on my list, would help.”
“And is it helping?”
“Not really. I can’t escape from myself.”
Strangely, he understood exactly what she meant. He’d tried to escape from himself so many times over the past four years.
“It’s been a long time since I thought about what makes me happy,” she said. “Riding makes me happy. So that’s what I’m doing today.”
“But...you’re not happy.”
“No.”
“Why not?” He dreaded her reply. What if he was the reason?
“Let’s put it this way—bitter doesn’t look good on me.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “You’re still upset about your dad.”
“I’m going to call his doctor. Get some answers.” She met Clint’s gaze, and he nodded, but he wondered if it would help. What answers could the doctor give her?
A small, ancient log cabin came into view. They dismounted and tied the horses to the hitching post nearby. Clint’s senses alerted. Last week’s snow had melted, and the weather had warmed for two days, but the temperature dropped since then, leaving the ground solid. Lexi reached for the door.
“Wait.” He hurried to her side. “Let me go in first.”
“Why?”
“Someone’s been here recently.”
“How can you tell?”
“Footprints.” He crouched, pointing to the indentations around the entrance. “These were made during the thaw. The fact they’re still here tells me someone stopped by before the temperatures dropped again.” He backtracked to the horses and inspected the area. “No signs of horses, though. I don’t know how whoever it was got out here. A four-wheeler would have left tracks, too.”
“People use the cabin from time to time. Daddy said an old mountain man must have built it in the late 1800s. It’s a haven if someone is hunting and needs a rest. It’s never locked.”
“Regardless, I’ll go in first.” He opened the door. It creaked as it swayed inward. Misshapen wood floors, three windows, an old army cot, a cupboard, two wooden chairs, a table and a stone fireplace greeted him. The dust on the floor and table was patchy, as if someone had been there recently. He poked through the cupboard. Two empty liquor bottles were tucked behind a few plates and mugs.
Lexi stood behind him. “Why would there be empty bottles here?”
“I don’t know.” Clint shifted his jaw. “But I’m going to find out. Looks like someone thinks your cabin is their party house.”
She inspected one corner while he mentally added up possible explanations.
“Looks like whoever was here did more than drinking.” She pointed to the butt of a marijuana cigarette.
“Unacceptable. For anyone to be coming out here and doing this on your property...” He couldn’t finish the thought. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“It was probably some hunters. I doubt it’s the first time someone has done this. As long as they don’t bother us.”
“You don’t deserve this.”
She placed her hand on his arm, and he pivoted to face her. Her expression, like her words, was soft, soothing. “Don’t be so upset.”
“But—”
“As Jerry likes to remind me, cowboys are like wild horses. You never know when one needs to get away, blow off steam, or whatever else Jerry claims. This was probably a one-time thing.”
Clint collected the bottles. Lexi claimed it wasn’t a big deal, but he wasn’t so sure. She walked out of the cabin.
“What if it’s someone from the ranch?”
Surprise then distrust flashed in her eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time I was left in the dark. I don’t mind someone using the cabin as a refuge or to hunt, but I won’t put up with anyone in my employ getting high or drunk on my property.”
“I’ll look into it.” He ground his teeth together as her words singed his raw conscience. How self-righteous could he be? He, too, was keeping her in the dark. And more and more, he wanted to rid himself of the burden. But how could he? She’d fire him and be left alone, vulnerable, with possible drunkards about.
“I went to see my friend after church. You might know her—Amy Deerson. She owns Amy’s Quilt Shop. She has the most incredible studio, and I think that’s one of the reasons I’ve been in such a bad mood.” Lexi strode to where they’d tied the horses.
He shook his head. His mind was still 100 percent focused on the person using her cabin for illegal activities, and she wanted to talk about old friends?
“She’s making time for her joy. My job used to be my greatest joy.” Lexi mounted Nugget. Clint made one more quick sweep of the area, didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and got back in the saddle.
“You said ‘used to be.’” Clint signaled his horse to move forward. Lexi did the same.
“For the past two years, I’ve been knee-deep in business details. I’ve had to cut way back on how many weddings I plan. I never set out to be a manager, but I’m afraid that’s what I’ve become.”
He frowned. She didn’t like managing her business?
“I’m going to have to make some changes, and I might have to go back to Denver sooner than I’d planned. I’ve work
ed too hard to build this company to let it fall apart. Maybe I’m expecting too much from my vice president. I don’t know.”
His mind raced. She...was leaving?
He didn’t want her to leave. He liked her here. Liked their weekly meetings and fixing her faucet and listening to her talk.
He liked being near her.
“I’m so glad I can depend on you, Clint. I can’t tell you what a relief it is I don’t have to worry about the ranch.”
How could she say that when they’d just found evidence that he wasn’t on top of the ranch? He hadn’t even known this cabin existed. What if whoever had used it knew Lexi was alone up at the main house? He’d seen mild-mannered cowboys get aggressive when they’d had too much to drink.
They emerged from the tree-lined path, and he wanted to shout, Sorry, but you’re putting your faith in the wrong guy.
“When will you go?”
She prodded Nugget to follow the river. “Tonight. I’m getting to the bottom of whatever’s going on at Weddings by Alexandra. Let’s plan on our usual Thursday morning meeting this week, okay? I should have the answers I need by then.”
It would give him a few more days to make a decision about the calf sale. He might not like it, but Denver was the best place for her. He’d have to get used to her not being around eventually. Besides, he’d never be more than a hired hand, and he’d better not forget it.
Chapter Six
Thursday morning, Lexi unpacked linen samples and draped them around her office at the ranch. Odd that driving into the garage last night had filled her with a sense of home she’d lost during the six years she’d lived in Denver. The past three days had been spent talking to her planners and their assistants, and she was no closer to knowing why so many business details were slipping through the cracks, but she knew for certain something bigger was wrong.
When she’d entered the Weddings by Alexandra headquarters, the front desk’s fresh flowers—always the palest of pinks—had been replaced with red roses. Three years ago, she’d hired a professional team to help brand Weddings by Alexandra. They’d emphasized the importance of creating a distinctive identity for her business. The color of the flowers, the music playlist in the waiting area, even the stationery had been selected with care. These details set her apart from other wedding planning companies.
